


i know my destination (i'm just not there)

by orangypop



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: College Student Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Idol Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, M/M, Moving On, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Road Trips, Strangers to Lovers, unrequited markhyuck and luno?? nohei??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 56,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26075056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangypop/pseuds/orangypop
Summary: “excuse you, my life is insured for more than anything you’ve ever owned in your life,” donghyuck tells him as yukhei herds him into the car, holding the door open all polite-like before he slams it the second donghyuck gets in.“you’re an sm artist, not the next royal prince. your precious company’s probably had to pay lawsuits worth more than your entire existence.”(or; on the run from his feelings and trying to find himself, yukhei, insignificant college student, picks up a hitchhiking haechan lee, worldwide famous kpop artist. little does he know, that by taking him in he's in for a wild ride, and the realization that perhaps he and haechan aren't so different after all.)
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 39
Kudos: 149





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this,,, is two years in the making,,, not because it was particularly difficult but because i am Lazy. but i love this fic with all my heart and i hope you do too! part two will be coming out as soon as i can get it edited and published ^^ enjoy!

a cramped, shit-stained bathroom, plus a raging headache (courtesy of the bass-boosted trap music playing on the dance floor), coupled with countless drinks of varying sizes, hues, and flavors—equals awful circumstances to make Important Life Choices under.

“i could flip a coin… maybe eenie meenie miney mo… uh—what about rock paper scissors?”

“with _who_?” kun exclaims. “how would that even work?”

yukhei pouts. “i don’t know.”

jaehyun lifts his head up from the toilet bowl to groan, “you shouldn’t let dumb kid’s games make Important Life Choices for you, stupid.”

“like you’re the spokesperson for making Important Life Choices,” yukhei mumbles, staring pointedly at the flecks of vomit on the corner of his inebriated friend’s mouth.

he redirects his scowl to the suspicious-looking hole in the tiled floor instead of jaehyun’s pitiful, pallid complexion (his trademark paleness they all tease him for, with a tinge of nauseous green mixed in). the stark contrast of the black and white checkered pattern blends together and peels off the ground to swim around his head.

(add an edible or two to that equation mentioned above.)

“stop being mean to him, guys,” sicheng scolds. he’s the one on Rub Jaehyun’s Back While He Upchucks duty tonight, thank god, because yukhei doesn’t know how his already fragile mental state would be able to handle that if it had been his turn in the rotation (sicheng has a schedule hanging in his room, so no one has to undergo such torment twice in a row). “we all know xuxi’s been super whiny since finals ended.”

“he’s _always_ whiny,” kun mutters into his beer, and it’s all in good fun, but yukhei is _sensitive_ right now, okay, and that is the _last_ thing he wants to hear at the moment. 

he sniffs, just the dregs of the month-long spring allergies that are finally leaving his system and totally not anything sadness-related, no sir. still, kun and sicheng’s heads snap to him immediately. it says a lot about their parental-esque instincts, the way they automatically assume that there’s something wrong. “i think i’m gonna head home.”

it’s hard to stand, because he can’t feel anything from the waist down and his fingers have been blipping in and out of reality for the last half an hour. for a good thirty seconds, he blinks so vigorously that it begins to feel like his contacts have disappeared behind his eyeballs. his mind begins to clear as the effect of the alcohol and edibles fade into the recesses of his mind, leaving the edges of his vision unsettlingly blurry.

“but you’re on the Drag Jaehyun Home Committee tonight!” sicheng protests, at the same time that kun says, with a shit-eating grin, “without quoting that stupid kim kardashian video?” 

jaehyun adds his own dissent of garbled noises into the toilet.

yukhei shrugs as nonchalantly as he can, even though he may have been totally ready to bust out his dramatic recitation of _’if you know how i feel’_ for the billionth time. “got a flight to catch in a few hours.”

genuine concern spreads over kun’s face then. it tugs on yukhei’s incredibly weak heartstrings. “i was just joking, xuxi, you know that,” he says in a rush, reaching for yukhei’s arm and holding on with intensity. “right?”

yukhei looks at him and sighs, because this is the last time he’s going to see his hyung for who knows how long and he can’t just leave things on a bad note. “right,” he whispers. the smile that blooms on the elder’s face fills him up with just as much relief as he knows the owner of said grin is feeling. “i’ll see you around, _ge_.”

the hug kun envelops him in is warm and it smells familiar, a snippet of all the memories he’s collected in his first year of university. a rush of emotion fills yukhei’s chest and he holds on a little longer than he usually would, even longer than he had at kun’s graduation ceremony two days ago. he hears a poorly hidden snivel. “oh god, _ge_ , please don’t cry,” he groans, and receives a wet laugh in response.

sicheng pats his leg as he pulls away from kun, who’s trying to be discreet about wiping at his puffy eyes. jaehyun lifts a shaky fist, and yukhei bumps it lightly with his own. he smiles at the three of them, lungs feeling heavy, and walks back into the fray.

he finds himself cherishing the air of the club, still slightly foreign to him. the alcohol and sweat is embedded into the place like code. if he squints hard enough amongst the strobe lights and grinding bodies, he can make out his neon green handprint on the brick wall amongst dozens of others, the paint still fresh from several hours ago. it’s accompanied by kun’s, sicheng’s, jaehyun’s, and jungwoo’s. his was the last to join their section of the wall—similar to how he was the last to join their friend group.

being a freshman with mostly upperclassmen friends has its ups and downs. ups: being able to get advice from his more frugal, responsible hyungs (kun, sicheng, and jungwoo) on where to go to buy the cheapest items, or how to make a variety of somewhat edible dishes using ramen and vodka alone from his more raunchier hyungs (jaehyun).

downs: being the only one left when all of them inevitably leave.

it was completely by chance that yukhei sat down next to jungwoo in the library two weeks into the school year (and a little thing yukhei likes to dramatically call fate). jungwoo had a tupperware full of homemade cookies from a friend’s bakery. yukhei was starving. jungwoo needed a new roommate or else he would be evicted from his place soon. yukhei had a decent income and hated the dorms with a burning passion. one might say that exchanging cookies for a shared apartment lease might be a bit of an unfair trade, but yukhei will adamantly tell anyone that those cookies were damn well worth it.

it was also incredibly convenient, because jungwoo turned out to be his platonic soulmate. his brother from another mother. the peanut butter to his jelly. whatever other cutesy phrases yukhei’s come up with when he’s shitfaced at three am. despite being polar opposites, they’ve gotten along so well this entire year.

down the hall from their apartment is jaehyun, who convinced his roommate sicheng to move to the complex with him because it was close to the bar yukhei leaving now (it doesn’t bother to check IDs, and jaehyun has worn his underage drinking habit like a badge of honor since the eighth grade, or so he says). and because sicheng is head over heels in love with the guy—for reasons that still remain to be seen—he agreed. jungwoo moved into the building with the help of his incredibly wealthy parents in freshman year once sicheng, a close friend of jungwoo’s from high school, begged him to.

kun lives on campus because he’s here on a fancy, all-expenses-paid exchange student scholarship (so is yukhei, technically, but what the university doesn’t know won’t hurt them). he met sicheng in his sophomore year through the campus’ dance club (which kun only joined because of the hot instructor), and assimilated himself into the Awesome Asians Crew (that’s the squad name yukhei’s been pushing for for months. it hasn’t quite stuck yet. they’ll come around).

yukhei was the cherry on top of the sundae that completed their eclectic bunch. they’re all different people, that’s for sure—there’s jungwoo, a wannabe vet with a passion for painting, kun, the culinary arts major and resident mother hen of the group, sicheng, professional worrier and overplanner who, ironically enough, wants to specialize in relaxation therapy, yukhei, the linguistics major who’s always on the brink of bursting into either manic laughter or tears (sometimes both), and jaehyun, who’s switched his major at least 6 times in the past three years, has participated in every club the school has to offer (read: showing up to one meeting each), and spends more time getting intoxicated than anything else on a day to day basis.

it’s weird, and sometimes embarrassing, and would totally make for good reality tv, but yukhei loves that about his friends. he finds himself inwardly thanking Past Jaehyun’s shallow decision making, like he does every night that he walks the short distance between the seedy bar and the apartment complex. he keeps an eye out for any suspicious activity on the SoCal streets as per sicheng’s constant warnings, hears his stomach growl at the thought of the tupperware of kun’s homemade oatmeal cookies in the kitchen, and prays that jungwoo left their spare key above the doorframe.

yukhei’s no stranger to moving from one country to another. having lived in hong kong throughout his childhood, then korea during his high school years, and now america for college, he’s mastered the art of adapting to whatever situations life tries to mold him into. there’s something scarier about LA, though. the people here are rougher around the edges, less stuck-up and studious than his former classmates. life toughens you out here in the city. there are washed-up internet celebrities and radio one hit wonders galore, garbage litters the streets, strung-out druggies are making deals on every corner (if you know where to look, that is), all posed in front of a backdrop of towering palm trees, red carpet, flashing lights, and sunny skies.

call him a cynic, but yukhei’s small glimpse into the grungy LA nightlife is pathetic in comparison to the higher-scale places uptown. it’s one of jaehyun’s life goals to make it into one of those clubs, so maybe the Awesome Asians will get to see the inside of one someday. but at the moment the crazy world of hollywood seems light years away instead of just a few miles.

the glitz and glamour faded away pretty early on. yukhei landed in LAX towards the end of august, fresh-faced and wide-eyed, excited and nervous and absolutely god awful at speaking english, though he could comprehend it almost perfectly. his life seemed like a miley cyrus song, then, with the view of the iconic sign from the window of his taxi on the way to his dorm (no jay-z song was on, unfortunately). now it’s already may, and the hollywood sign is just another attraction he occasionally passes on the bus to campus. it’s merely a couple of panels held up by shitty scaffolding. nothing special anymore.

kun’s always loved it, though. says it makes him feel like he’s made it, like he’s living his dream even if that dream isn’t stardom. he’s the type to find special, personal meaning in every location he visits. yukhei knows that out of everything the elder has explored in the past four years, that sign is what he’ll miss the most.

even though kun won’t be here, not much will change when the rest of them come back later in august. yukhei knows this. jaehyun will still trash-crash on their couch sometimes, even though his and sicheng’s apartment is literally right next door. jungwoo will still find excuses to go over to Doyoung From Next Door’s place (they’ve “broken” so many appliances by now that yukhei doesn’t know how doyoung hasn’t gotten concerned yet). kun will still video call him for no reason other than to complain, except now he won’t be in his dorm a good twenty minute drive away, but halfway across the world.

he _knows_ this, yukhei tells himself as he ascends the stairs. he knows that nothing will be different—yet at the same time, everything is changing. he finally found a place to settle, in an environment that he could _control_ , but now, that control is being ripped away from him.

it doesn’t hit him until he shuts the door behind him and looks at the empty living room, void of all of jungwoo’s easels and giant sketch pads and yukhei’s post-it notes (aka flashcards) that he stuck to every surface of the apartment—everything that made home, home. it’s been empty for the past week but he hasn’t bothered to stop and let it sink in and now a few tears are creeping past the cracks in his shut eyelids.

he hides from no one but the darkness behind his sweaty fringe, face buried in his knees as _a few tears_ becomes _a torrential fucking downpour_ cascading down his cheeks. he’s needed to cry for a good three weeks, now, since last minute cramming season began and jungwoo had his mini mental breakdown and jaehyun almost tried to drown himself in the complex pool out of stress (and way too many body shots). so yukhei lets himself cry, lets his shoulders shake and his voice crack on whimpers he holds back behind chapped lips.

the path from his lock screen to his recent calls is one his thumb has trekked many a time. he finds himself hovering over the one voicemail he has saved. it’s from eight months ago.

he hates himself a little more each time he presses play. this time around is no different.

_“hey. i, uh, just listened to your message. i was out with the guys, so. i’m sorry for not picking up because i probably made you feel even worse about this whole thing because i know how you overthink stuff and—i’m just sorry, i guess. and i—i feel even worse because—god you must know where this is going—i don’t—”_

he cuts it there. he’s never surprised that he can’t make it all the way through. the last time he made it to the end was the very first time he played it.

yukhei leaves his phone, silent, on the coffee table, and goes through the motions. strips down to boxers and a loose t-shirt. takes out his contacts. lazily circles his teeth with the brush. splashes cold water onto his face in an attempt to look less wrecked. accepts that he’s just going to have to look like a gremlin for the rest of the night. goes against his better judgement and pigs out on that half-empty tin of kun’s homemade cookies on the counter until his stomach can’t take it anymore. brushes his teeth again, a little more harshly this time. makes sure the door is locked and the windows are closed and covered. changes the temperature to the lowest he dares it to go because he overheats (and because he can now, since jungwoo and his cold-sensitive self isn’t here to tell him off for it). pours himself a glass of water to take to bed.

the floorboards creak underneath his bare feet on the way to his bedroom. at the end of the small hallway is jungwoo’s room, the door cracked open slightly; it’s practically empty, oddly sterile. yukhei’s own room only consists of the bare essentials: his bed, with the spare bedding that’s been collecting mothballs in his closet for the past nine months and is an absolute _dream_ to sleep in, his desk, for once removed of clutter, and—that’s it, apart from the suitcases sitting in the corner of the room, waiting for tomorrow. everything else is shoved into his closet, hidden from the rest of the world and the imaginary burglars yukhei’s brain likes to concoct at night. they still have to pay rent for this place while they’re gone, which a small, selfish part of yukhei doesn’t understand. it’ll remain dormant for approximately three months, devoid of any life (though Doyoung From Next Door grudgingly agreed to come over every once in a while to water jungwoo’s extensive collection of houseplants).

spending all of his time with the Awesome Asians has certainly taken his mind off of the people he left behind in his tiny suburb back in seoul, and now that it’s already time to go back, yukhei doesn’t feel prepared. LA’s become home now, somewhere between the grime and backbreaking stress of school. yukhei’s found a place for himself here.

it killed his phone bill, having to text and call across countries, but he pushed through it anyways, for the sake of keeping in close contact with his family and friends for the first few weeks. then he met his friends, and settled in, and things began to change. he didn’t rely on who he used to for advice or familiarity. he embraced the differences, until they became his new normal. everyone back home might as well be from another planet.

he’s excited to see them, though, he really is. it’s just… he still has to make that Important Life Choice jungwoo’s been encouraging for the past few weeks.

it started out as a footnote on his bucket list; that is, the bucket list jungwoo started for him after realizing that yukhei is, in his words, _the buzziest of buzzkills i’ve ever met_. and sure, yukhei cares about his studies, and hardly steps foot outside the apartment except for class or work, and has every minute of every hour planned down to the minute detail, but that doesn’t mean he’s _lame,_ or anything.

keeping an obsessive routine for every aspect of his life, from studying to working out to eating, is the only thing that keeps him on track. he’s dealt with severe adhd his entire life, and even with the best medication money can buy, his thoughts still fall off the rails, attention snagged and focus lost at the drop of a hat. his perfect grades will slip through his fingers if he so much as lightly lets up on the pressure he places on himself. he needs that order, that stability, the plans he makes, to get him through day to life.

and if he happens to miss out on a lot of what someone at his age of 19 should be experiencing, then so be it.

in a twist of irony, the city has always been where yukhei, a ball of pure nerves, thrives most. hong kong, his first home for 14 years, is all cramped buildings brushing right against each other, apartments stacked on top of one another like pancakes, creeping towards the sky. the streets are dirty and cracked and the air is thick with pollution but there was something about it all that his younger self breathed in and thought: _home._ it was befitting for his younger self, who was outspoken and loud, always getting distracted by the simplest things. his grades suffered immensely, but yukhei was happy then, even though he and his mother were living in poverty. he hadn’t quite realized the importance hard work had on lives that seemed hopeless, like his back then.

seoul is cleaner, more close-knit and safe and everything yukhei used to yearn for. the apartment blocks there are tall, imposing, each one eerily similar to the next. but at the same time, they’re open, inviting, with brighter skies and pristine streets. yukhei’s eyes had been opened to his glaring academic flaws, the realization that if he wanted to make anything of himself, he would have to sustain himself. a routine was easier to slip into in seoul, once he realized he needed one, and so he fell into it and never tried to change.

and that’s what yukhei likes—well, it’s what yukhei _needs_ , at least: plans and schedules and to-do lists. sure, it doesn’t make him _happy_ , watching his friends kick back and hang out while he buries his nose in a book. it doesn’t make him happy, giving up what’s left of his eternally tarnished youth for his studies, but it’s what’s necessary.

he hasn’t bothered explaining any of this to jungwoo before. it’s embarrassing, sort of, to admit that his intelligence is essentially forced, that he desperately wants to be a normal young adult but his brain simply won’t _let_ him. he’s been made to feel stupid for so many years, by both his peers and himself, and coming to college overseas gave him a chance to pretend that he was _always_ this smart.

anyways. jungwoo’s been encouraging that he goes on a little road trip once he gets lands in korea. _you need to do something spontaneous for once, xuxi,_ he’d said the other night. _get out on the road without a plan, and drive to your heart’s content. have_ fun.

jungwoo isn’t wrong, but the idea of driving out, alone, with no stipulations, terrifies yukhei more than he would ever admit aloud. he’s suppressed that easygoing, fun-loving persona he used to have as a child, and it’s hard to recover it now, underneath the layers of anxiety and fear. even coming out to the bar tonight took enough self-convincing in and of itself. sure, yukhei’s been to a few kickbacks of jaehyun’s next door and eagerly drowned his stress in copious amounts of alcohol he isn’t legally allowed to consume, but going out is another beast entirely. tonight was… _interesting_ , that’s for sure; yukhei had a moderate amount of fun. but not even the high he just came down from not too long ago brought back the person he used to be.

that’s the thing about people like jaehyun that yukhei can’t understand, nor does he really want to. he knows jaehyun comes from a wealthy family, the spoiled only child, pushed into college by his overbearing parents who were willing to pay for it all. jaehyun doesn’t seem to care that his position at ucla could have been taken by a qualifying candidate who actually cared about their academics, doesn’t bother to try because he’s coming out of this debt-free. meanwhile, even kun and yukhei with their high-paying scholarships have to meet certain criteria to make sure they don’t end up thousands of dollars in debt.

and part of that criteria involves being disciplined, a model student. underage drinking and the like is something that would get yukhei’s scholarship ripped from him in an instant, whereas jaehyun gets to live it up to his heart’s content without facing any consequences. yukhei can’t necessarily trust fate to be kind to him anymore, and that’s why he lives life as far from the edge as possible, still afraid that the ground beneath his feet might crumble.

 _you haven’t_ lived, _xuxi,_ he hears jungwoo’s voice saying. _you’re a background character in your own life._

 _why does that have to be a bad thing?_ he answers inner jungwoo, frowning to himself in the dark. _why do i have to want more? why is what i have now not enough?_

the truth is, he _does_ want more; he’s just scared to admit it. scared to take a few steps toward that ledge and look down at what his life could become if he took that leap. playing it safe is how he’s done things for the last few years, terrified of losing everything he’s worked towards.

but even though he’s where he always wanted to be, yukhei isn’t _happy_.

his sigh reverberates through the barren room as he fluffs his pillow again and turns over on his side. he remembers the first night he slept here: the stiffness of the mattress under his limbs, which ached from an evening of extensive exercise at the complex gym when the jetlag left him wide awake at one am. now, his body sinks into the indent his frame has left in the foam over the past nine months. faintly, he wonders if it will still be here when he’ll return 2 and a half months later.

his eyes slip shut before an answer comes to mind.

  


🛣

  


mark doesn’t like to touch donghyuck in front of the cameras.

it’s all too familiar: the rapid snapping of shutters, blinding flashes of light at every angle. strained smiles, stiff, aching muscles underneath tight-fitting trousers and crisply ironed suit jackets. screams of adoring fans. the feeling of hundreds of eyes watching. waiting. _wanting_.

glancing out of the corner of his eye to see mark at his side, a lopsided, picture perfect grin in place. nothing but genuine happiness in his expression. resisting the urge to inch closer and nudge him, because he knows mark would nudge him back. only because a shove would be too overt.

that behavior usually doesn’t overlap into things behind the scenes. once they’re alone, mark will let donghyuck wrap around him like creeping kudzu on an abandoned house. he’ll put up with kisses on his neck and cheeks because he thinks donghyuck is touch-starved or something (well, he is, but that’s beside the point).

so the reason why he just pushed donghyuck away and moved to the other end of the bed is a complete mystery.

and because donghyuck is _Emotionally Constipated,_ or whatever, he doesn’t say anything at first. he pouts up at the ceiling and picks at a hangnail on his thumb.

mark is the responsible one out of their duo, always has been. donghyuck may have debuted earlier but mark is naturally disciplined, primed to be perfect in every way. donghyuck is rougher around the edges, less prim and proper. it’s why they connect so well: donghyuck reminds mark to live a little, and mark does his best to save donghyuck from himself.

mark’s dorm is clean, like everything else about him. there aren’t any clothes strewn about, the bed is neatly made (though it’s a bit wrinkled now that they’re lying on it), and the floor appear to be newly swept. donghyuck’s room, on the other hand, is less of a room than it is a storage closet, with random trinkets and doodads lying about. mark calls it an occupational hazard.

it’s probably for the best that they didn’t debut in a group together. johnny likes to say that donghyuck is—in the nicest way possible, impossible to work with—and mark has an unintentional habit of hogging the spotlight from anything that breathes. they already fight an unhealthy amount for two people who only see each other once every few weeks; if they were close like this on the daily, one of them would’ve been choked to death by now.

no matter how many times they argue, it blows over before they see each other again. neither of them are the confrontational type, so lots of apologies get lost in translation, replaced with hesitant touches and drawing closer and nods of _yeah, that’s okay._

this feels bigger than the petty fights, though. mark never shoves him away without explanation—not since last summer, at least. they never sit in uncomfortable silence like they are right now, and it worries donghyuck.

but he doesn’t say anything.

mark looks stressed, donghyuck notes as he glances up at the older boy. his eyes are closed, half-asleep. maybe that’s what’s troubling him. he’s been working on new music lately in the studio, and donghyuck knows, better than most, just how grueling that process can be.

he admires the little things about mark’s face for a few minutes. individually, his features aren’t anything special, but together they form such an interesting face, one that donghyuck finds himself staring at when he knows he shouldn’t be.

mark and his well-behaved self knows how to keep that at bay (not that he ever stares at donghyuck the way donghyuck stares at him). but donghyuck has never been subtle about his attraction to anyone in his seventeen years of living, which makes it difficult to be a public figure in a country that doesn’t entirely approve of who he’s attracted to.

because of this, everyone knows that donghyuck has been in love with mark for, like, forever—including mark himself.

he _knows_. he _knows,_ and never acts on it. that hurts donghyuck more than rejection would. it’s like he doesn’t want to even acknowledge it, just prefers to sweep it under the rug and eventually forget about it.

it’s hard to forget when you’re the one that’s in love.

he tries again, subtly sliding closer until his head is against mark’s hip. mark tenses; donghyuck feels it and grits his teeth. waits for the rebuff to come.

but it doesn’t. mark’s muscles relax, gradually. donghyuck feels a hand brush the top of his head, like mark is sleepily trying to pet him. his heart starts doing cartwheels in his chest.

his phone vibrates.

it’s johnny who’s texting from the van outside, demanding to know where he is. donghyuck curses inwardly. he’d forgotten about practice, but he doesn’t want to go.

his last set of promotions with mark for their collaboration single ended in mid-april. it’s the beginning of june now, and he has yet to be given a break. he’s been writing some songs on his own lately to better his lyricism skills, and practicing regularly with taeyong, but he wants to be able to rest, just like this, and not feel bombarded with every pointless thing that he’s being forced to do by the company.

johnny’s ticked off about it too, but he’s a lot better at hiding it. he’s been on edge lately, though, which donghyuck knows is a mixture of being overworked and planning an entire wedding. it only makes him feel worse for letting this slip his mind and making johnny even more mad.

but hey, pissing people off is what donghyuck does best, isn’t it?

he sighs and sits up. hanging off his neck, like it always is, is his face mask, the black fabric stained from something he’s tried to rub away but to no avail. probably toothpaste. donghyuck fastens the straps over his ears, tangling them in the scruffy curls at the back of his neck. 

mark’s hand falls from donghyuck’s head to the small of his back. “you gotta go?” he asks, voice rough from disuse.

donghyuck turns to face him. mark’s eyes are wide, as they are naturally, but something akin to worry swims in them. “dance practice,” he explains. mark lightens up considerably.

he leans in—it’s subtle, but enough that donghyuck knows what he’s getting at. their hands rest on top of one another’s. donghyuck silently forgives mark’s apology the only way he knows how: he nods. _yeah. that’s okay._

he can wait for mark a little longer.

as he steps outside, the sticky summer air immediately penetrates the thick wool sweater donghyuck now regrets pulling on this morning. he pulls at the itchy collar and throws a glance to his sides. the back entrance of mark’s apartment building is discreet enough, with a narrow alleyway that’s squashed between the foul-smelling receptacle for the apartment trash chutes and a fence of tall, overgrown hedges that cast a midday shadow over the cracked concrete. but when it comes to the safety of some of the most famous people in the country, nothing is a given.

one of the company suburbans is parked at the end of the alley, in all its not-at-all-conspicuous tinted-windowed glory. donghyuck pulls open one of the back doors and plops down onto the soft pleather upholstery.

“hey, little man,” johnny chirps from the passenger’s seat. it’s his favorite patronizing nickname to use when donghyuck is in a bad mood. but today, rather than making him smile, it does quite the opposite.

“hyung,” he returns coolly. he removes his black ball cap and runs a hand through his unruly brown strands.

“you okay, donghyuckie?” johnny asks, twisting in his seat to affix him with that paternal expression, the one that warns donghyuck of copious dad-snuggles to come. donghyuck leers at the black floor mat beneath his battered adidas sneakers. (he makes a mental note to switch them for a newer pair soon. taeyong is always nagging him for wearing out a pair of shoes until they’re barely recognizable after a month.)

donghyuck watches his manager’s tongue prod at the inside of his cheek “ _haechan-ah,_ ” johnny sighs, finally giving in.

it took many valiant efforts on a young donghyuck’s part to convince the company to make it appear as if haechan has been his real name all along. thankfully, his school in jeju didn’t bother with school photos with classes of a whopping 20 students and below. everyone knew each other. it was up to the parents to preserve photographic evidence that their child did indeed exist throughout childhood.

it started with a nickname given to him by his youngest brother. “sun-hyung,” he would gurgle, because donghyuck was a difficult name for his loose tongue to wrap around, and if donghyuck’s considered to be too tan now, netizens should have seen him then. amused, his mother affectionately began to call him _haechan:_ the embodiment of sunshine itself.

not that there’s anything wrong with _donghyuck_. but now it feels more intimate to use that name, because millions of people across the globe have no idea that his stage name is just that: a stage name. but it isn’t ridiculous enough that anyone would assume it to be so. the name donghyuck is all curling tongue around consonants, vowels deep and lazy. haechan is light, airy; sharp and biting. much more appropriate for the person he’s tried to be for years.

if someone were to uncover his original audition tape, raw and uncut, they would see a young, pudgy, fresh-faced eleven-year-old, a self-assured smirk gracing his droll little mouth. because if he got rejected ( _when,_ his brat of a younger sister would tease, cackling maniacally when donghyuck tore after her across their lawn in faux rage), what would it matter? he was _eleven._ the worst that could happen would be getting cooed at while being gently ushered out of the room, and then he’d be on a plane back home to gush to his friends about his fifteen minutes of fame.

clearly, quite the opposite occurred.

the short car ride passes in strained silence. donghyuck can feel johnny’s eyes watching him in the rearview mirror and forces himself to look down at his phone with an expression of cold impassivity. soon enough, the sm building looms overhead, intimidating in its tall stature and tinted windows. when donghyuck was recruited the old building was more compact, less about flaunting wealth and more about producing stars. over the years that has become less of a priority.

taeyong is mid-stretch when donghyuck trudges through the door to one of the practice rooms, johnny close behind. he’s dropping down into a frontwards split, the one donghyuck has been unsuccessfully trying to mimic for a good five years. his handsome features contort into an even handsomer grin upon seeing them.

“haechannie!” he coos, and donghyuck’s lips may or may not curl up a little bit. it’s hard to resist lee taeyong in a state of affection. his instructor comes up perfectly out of the position, standing to properly greet them both, with a good-natured ruffle of donghyuck’s hair and a peck to johnny’s lips. “you taste like tteok-bokki,” he pouts as he pulls away from johnny, who holds his waist in a vice-like grip. “did you eat without me?”

“i can’t wait until ten every night to have my dinner,” johnny reminds him, nuzzling taeyong’s nose with his own. “i’ll order takeaway for you tonight. scout’s honor.”

donghyuck walks away from their lovey-dovey antics and sits down in a corner of the practice room, extending one of his legs and bending over to grab his toes. he’s nowhere near the flexibility of taeyong’s lithe frame, but he’s certainly not as stiff and graceless when he first entered these doors years and years ago.

“our tuxes came in this morning,” taeyong is saying, smoothing down the lapels of johnny’s bomber jacket. “and my mom came with me to the florist’s to make sure the bouquets are being made as planned. the addition of the tulips was so last minute, i just had to make sure that they would look good with our previous choices—”

“i’m sure they look great,” johnny interrupts, gripping taeyong’s arms to ground him. “don’t worry yourself sick, yong. we’ve only been planning for what, a year and a half?”

taeyong flushes. “everything has to be perfect,” he mumbles, and johnny kisses him again, going on a tangent about how every meticulously planned part of the ceremony will pale in comparison to the perfection of taeyong himself—which donghyuck privately agrees with—turning the normally poised and professional choreographer into a blushing, stammering mess.

for a soon-to-be-married couple, johnny and taeyong sure act like they’re still in that first week of dating bliss. of course, they’ve always been that way. donghyuck usually tolerates it, but today, it only darkens the storm clouds brewing in his thoughts.

being around them just makes him realize how _alone_ he feels. sure, johnny and taeyong have become a second family to him, but he’s almost 18, and he’s afraid that things will change once he’s of age. they probably won’t let donghyuck crash in their spare bedroom anymore, not when he has his own unkempt dorm room down the hall from mark’s. they might start forcing him to get out more, make friends to spend his free time with.

and maybe, donghyuck’s afraid of change. as jealous as their displays of affection make him, donghyuck’s found a familiarity in fitting himself into johnny and taeyong’s relationship, acting as a younger brother or even a son in some regards. he tries to ignore the truth; that he’s using them to fill the void of the childhood he never had. to be treated like the young child he never was. now it’s time for him to leave the nest, to let them enjoy married life together, but he just—isn’t ready.

“duckie’s in a sour mood today,” he hears johnny say to taeyong, purposely raising his voice to get on donghyuck’s nerves. “be gentle with our delicate flower.”

donghyuck grits his teeth. usually he accepts the nicknames and teasing, but the reminders of mark shoving him away and the loneliness he felt encapsulates him, making him prone to irritability. “your _delicate flower_ is perfectly fine, just tired. don’t listen to him, hyung.”

that much is true. donghyuck hasn’t been sleeping well lately, too preoccupied with worries of what’s to come in the days leading up to his birthday. not to mention the dull, aching pain in his right leg lately. taeyong has been pushing the limits of his aforementioned inadequate flexibility, as well as introducing more difficult choreo routines. it’s something to keep the both of them busy while they wait for the go-ahead for his next comeback. for the past two months, there has been nothing but agonizing silence.

a look of worry crosses taeyong’s handsome features. “we can skip practice today if you’re not feeling well, haechan-ah.”

as tempting as it is, donghyuck is already here, and he really has no desire to go back to mark’s dorm and sit in semi-awkward silence. “i’m okay hyung, i need something to do,” he says, extending his right leg and reaching for his toes. he tries not to audibly hiss at the tightness in his muscles, resisting the stretch. “once the weekend is here and we can go out on the town, i’ll feel way better.”

johnny and taeyong exchange looks. “about that,” johnny begins.

“we haven’t had a weekend off in months, haechan-ah,” taeyong says. his left thumb is rubbing back and forth against his pointer finger, a nervous habit of his. “johnny and i need that time to make final preparations for the ceremony.”

donghyuck sits up, the pain in his leg receding slightly. “but you said we’d go out for my birthday,” he says, and tries not to whine, but does a little anyways. they _promised_ him; months ago, in fact.

“kiddo, we don’t like it anymore than you do, but we need to finalize the catering menu, submit our cake order, do some last-minute decoration shopping...” johnny lists each point off on his fingers. “i know what we said, but with the wedding next month, we’re kind of backed into a corner.”

“we’re sorry, donghyuck-ah,” taeyong says quietly. “we’ll celebrate at home, give you your presents, and then next time we’re free we can go out, like you’ve been wanting.”

and when would that be? donghyuck wonders. every weekend after this one will be filled with work or more wedding preparations. soon enough, donghyuck will finally be granted a comeback, and by that point, the summer will be over. may as well wait until next year at that point.

it’s stupid, but donghyuck has always wanted to go out, do something fun. he’s been so focused on one goal for the longest time, and now that he’s achieved it, he’s come to realize how his youth has been wasted. he’s almost an adult, and he’s never been anywhere outside the small radius of sm’s headquarters in 5 years.

he gets restless cooped up like this, and the desire to break out has never been stronger. johnny and taeyong knew this, promised this to him to give him that release, a taste of freedom, only to strip it from him. and donghyuck wants to be rational, act like the adult he will soon be, but his selfishness gets in the way too easily.

“you know what?” donghyuck stands up. “i’m really not feeling well right now. practicing right now is pointless anyways.”

“donghyuck—” johnny starts, but donghyuck is stalking toward the door.

“ _don’t_ call me that,” donghyuck snaps at him, pausing in the doorway to glare at the two of them. they move forward, expressions etched with concern, but he slams the door shut and races down the hallway.

the sun is still baking, but it’s begun its slow descent over the horizon when he steps outside. donghyuck keeps his head down, not really caring if a fansite snaps his picture right now. let the world see the feelings of restlessness, of anger and sadness and rejection and _hurt_ that he’s kept bottled up inside for too long.

let the world see donghyuck explore it on his own.

  


🛣

  


jeno is waiting when yukhei finally escapes the baggage claim with his suitcase and shit, he can’t do this. he can’t.

a crudely-decorated poster board is concealing most of him. it lessens the blow of— _jeno_ a little. it’s covered in glitter of all colors and creeds, and those hamtaro puffy stickers that chenle likes to collect. these decorations surround the words _’welcome home, xuxi!’_ written in sloppy english, the letters made from multi-colored construction paper.

it’s the best thing yukhei’s ever seen.

jeno lowers the poster inch by inch as yukhei approaches. his eyes vanish whenever he smiles, and they can barely be seen now.

(breathing is starting to seem like an arduous task.)

“hi,” he greets, just an arm’s length away now.

(yukhei is still trying to regain control of his lungs.)

then there isn’t any space between them at all and jeno is squeezing the life out of him and _shit,_ yukhei _can’t do this._

but he plasters on a smile and snakes an arm around jeno’s waist, so when the younger looks up it’ll seem like nothing’s changed since they last saw each other eight months ago.

( _everything_ has changed; except for the way his heart palpitates from this contact, the way his palms are clammy, the way his smile is shaky at the corners.)

“sorry, i’m getting glitter all over you,” jeno murmurs, voice muffled by yukhei’s shoulder. “it kind of transfers onto everything. the airport janitors will probably be cursing us while they clean tonight.”

“i don’t mind,” yukhei says fervently, and he wishes jeno would _shut up,_ because everything he’s saying right now is ridiculously endearing and that is Not Helping his current respiratory issues. “i love it.”

( _i love you._ )

“the young’ns got caught up in the gift shop,” jeno tells him, but yukhei’s brain is screaming _we’restillhuggingwhyarewestillhuggingmmmsmellssogood_ over and over again at warp speed and he can barely hear anything else. “chenle has probably bought the entire store by now. remind me to never leave them unattended again.

“but honestly,” he continues, leaning into yukhei’s ear and subsequently causing yukhei’s erratic train of thought to fall off the tracks and catch on fire, “i don’t mind. i kind of wanted to be the first person you saw when you got back.”

( _iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou—_ )

this is what jungwoo would refer to as _mixed signals._

“also—” god, jeno never stops _beaming_. it’s doing poor things to yukhei’s health. it’s also rendering him unable to utter anything longer than three syllables. but _christ,_ jeno keeps talking—“i need your opinion on this sweatshirt. those jerks won’t stop making fun of it,” he pouts.

yukhei swallows and gives jeno a quick once-over. the sweatshirt is fine, a multicolored one that fits him well (there’s no doubt that jeno, with all of his underlying insecurities, is just fishing for compliments, and he knows yukhei is all too willing to give them)—but his eyes snag on jeno’s face and stay there. of course he’s as handsome as ever, in that boy-next-door fashion that he’s always been. of course the universe couldn’t have given him awful teeth or a weak chin or _anything_ that would keep yukhei’s circulatory system from kicking into overdrive at the mere sight of him. “don’t worry, you look good,” he assures him.

( _too good._ )

“better than me,” he hurries to add, well-aware that he’s ogling, “i look like i got into a tussle with a blender.”

“and the blender won,” jeno chuckles. his nose crinkles cutely at the corners. there’s no way he’s _real._

yukhei rolls his eyes in a mocking fashion. “thanks,” he murmurs, and this would be the part where he leans down and kisses jeno like they’re in a rom-com reunion scene, but then the younger’s grin drops a notch in brightness and the warmth draws away until there’s sizable distance between them again.

jeno is trying so hard to keep smiling. yukhei appreciates the effort but it’s making everything even worse because he knows he’s the one at fault for this, for their shift in dynamic.

he doesn’t bother to ask what jeno thinks of his appearance. most of it is the result of stress-exercising and skincare routines that border on obsessive. he knows he looks good. but jeno’s validation would make the work he put in that much more worth it.

(maybe a small part of him hoped, deep, deep down, that bulking up and getting rid of acne and his other bodily insecurities would make jeno change his mind. but yukhei’s never had the best of luck.)

someone hops onto his back then, arms latching around his neck and squeezing until he feels faintly out of breath. “woah, hyung, you have highlights in your hair!”

“nice to see you too, chenle,” yukhei says fondly, waiting until the smaller boy hops down to turn around and look at him. his hair is as blindingly bleach blonde as ever, smile wide and unwavering.

to his left is jisung, standing awkwardly as per usual. by the looks of it, he shot up a few more inches in height, finally starting to grow into his longer limbs. his lanky arms are laden with bags of stupid airport gift shop knickknacks, like yukhei is a tourist here and didn’t live two doors down from them for four years.

and as much as yukhei appreciates the gifts, he knows chenle’s real motive for hiding out in the gift shop for as long as possible.

“we’re blocking people’s way,” jeno pipes up. the poster dangles from his hand, brushing the floor. his face is stony. “let’s get out of here.”

with that, he turns on his heel and stalks off, not waiting for them to catch up. chenle sighs. “i thought things would be different by now.”

“me, too,” yukhei mutters, and he must sound incredibly pathetic, because chenle and jisung sidle up to him in that comforting way of theirs. for two kids who have yet to put the pieces together and realize their own feelings for one another, they sure know how to help yukhei through this.

because they were the first people yukhei turned to once he had collapsed in his dorm room, jetlagged and disoriented and _broken_. he set up his laptop, logged into the shitty wifi, and talked to them for hours until his roommate cut the connection and threatened to kick him out (him and hendery are on much better terms now that they don’t live together).

and they’re the people that stand by him now, grasping both his hands in their own as the three of them trail after jeno. chenle blabbers on about the latest warriors game, and jisung tells him how dance has been going, and yukhei is content to just—listen. just _be_. because god, has he missed this, and he needs _anything_ to keep his eyes from straying to jeno’s back, leading them toward the airport exit.

(it doesn’t really work).

but the guilt begins to set in when the topic of conversation turns to this first week of summer, and all of the things they’re going to do. 

he gestures for jeno to follow him to the trunk and starts piling his suitcase, carry-on, and whatever else he was able to shove on the plane without being detained into the trunk of jeno’s car. most of his stuff is staying in cali, because it was expensive enough to get everything shipped over once, and yukhei only makes so much money from working at a corner fruit stand.

“my mom bought season passes to lotte waterpark, we _have_ to go the minute it opens in the morning,” chenle is saying, arm slung over a flushed jisung’s shoulder. chenle certainly has enough money to fund his future college tuition several times over, so yukhei doesn’t mind mooching off of him for things like free waterpark visits. however: “it’ll be _packed_ tomorrow, so we need to be up early….” 

it’s in the middle of cramming one last duffel bag, jeno’s arm veins tensing as he shoves, that yukhei blurts: “i’m leaving tomorrow.”

chenle’s excited chatter comes to a halt. jisung nearly drops one of the gift shop bags. jeno pauses and stares at him. yukhei shifts under the weight of their gazes.

“well i’m not— _leaving_ leaving, just—i’m going on a trip. by myself.” he adds lamely.

“and you’re leaving tomorrow,” jeno echoes. chenle and jisung stand in silence, shooting worried glances back and forth. yukhei plays with the zipper of his jacket and waits for him to continue. “already.”

“just for, like, a week,” yukhei insists. “i’ll have the rest of the summer to spend with you guys.”

it hadn’t been his original intention. during one of their many late night sofa chats, jungwoo said it might be good to get closure, to spend some much-needed time with jeno, to eventually look him in the face and think _i’m over you._ he overestimated yukhei’s willpower by a mile.

and standing here now, he feels more sure of the half-assed idea he and jungwoo conjured up one night while yukhei was thinking of ways to avoid real confrontation rather than studying for finals. he does needs time to himself, time spent without his college friends or the people he left behind in his hometown. it’s been a long time since he’s had that.

the drive home is near silence, permeated only by chenle’s unusually soft voice trying to break it. yukhei sits stiffly next to jeno in the passenger’s seat, feeling like his body doesn’t quite fit in this leather seat the way it fits his bed at home. he doesn’t belong in their orbit, not anymore. somewhere along the line, he drifted away, into such a completely different one in la that he really doesn’t know what he considers _home_ anymore. 

jeno pulls into a parking spot outside their high-rise condo complex. he silently begins unloading yukhei’s things, holding them out to him one by one. chenle and jisung make the excuse of needing to get some stuff ready at their own apartments for tonight’s hangout. yukhei just watches them go, rendered utterly helpless by the emotionless expression on jeno’s face.

it isn’t until they get inside, are assaulted with hugs and kisses from yukhei’s mom and stepdad, exchange awkward hellos with his angsty teenage stepbrother, and retreat to the safety of yukhei’s bedroom that jeno speaks up again.

yukhei’s grinning, wild and unrestrained, for the first time in a while. there’s a lipstick mark on his cheek from his mom and he never wants to it wash off. he’s missed it here, and being back in his old room has all of the good memories flooding back to him.

the space is cramped and poorly suited for someone his size, but he’d made it work for a good few years. he’s grown another inch or two this past year, though, so his bed definitely won’t fit him anymore; but he recalls squeezing onto it with jeno, chenle, and jisung on more than one occasion, so he’s sure he’ll figure something out. his signed _moon embracing the sun_ poster is still hanging above his messy desk, along with his various shinee album photocards and some of the polaroids of friends that he decided to leave up. his mom graciously left it all untouched for him to return to.

it’s cozy, familiar. it doesn’t feel any different standing here now than it did nine months ago. what _is_ different is the way that jeno tiptoes around him, watches him observe his room. he’s never acted this way before, and he wouldn’t have to—if yukhei hadn’t gone and fucked everything up.

“listen yukhei,” jeno starts, and yukhei, grateful that his back is turned, closes his eyes. “if this is about—you know, last year—we’re cool now, right? you don’t have to leave because of me.”

jeno looks like he’s ready to bolt at the first sign of yukhei getting any more vulnerable than he already is now. yukhei feels the disappointment sloshing in his gut.

he gulps. “it’s not because of you,” he says, and it’s a blatant lie, but it’s one he and jeno are both desperate to believe. “i—i just need to get reacquainted with the language and stuff. explore.”

“you seem to be speaking it just fine,” jeno grumbles. yukhei digs his nails into his palms. “mr. linguistics major.”

he tacked on the stupid name to lighten the pressure. it doesn’t quite work, but they’ll have to make do for now. jeno turns to leave the room, to go back to his own place and grab stuff just like chenle and jisung did; except who knows if he’ll come back? “i just wish you didn’t feel the need to do this,” he says quietly.

the door closes on yukhei’s _“who said i didn’t want to either?”_

  


🛣

  


it’s fucking freezing out, the rain is pounding down harsher than taeyong’s criticisms during dance practice, and donghyuck kind of wants to die.

his hoodie clings uncomfortably to his torso. he regrets wearing these stupid skinny jeans, which are sticking to his legs and making it difficult to walk. scratch _“kind of”_ —he _really_ wants to die.

he’s been walking for hours; since around midnight, to be exact. with no particular direction in mind, but with one goal: to get as far away from the city as possible. wherever he ends up, he could care less.

one thing he’s learned so far is that the darkened streets of seoul are terrifying. he clutched onto his backpack like a lifeline the entire night, hiding behind sunglasses and his face mask as he hurried down sidewalks slick with rain and shouldered past people that looked less-than-friendly.

johnny’s always stressed the importance of having a curfew: a set time he has to be in the building and a time he has to be asleep. donghyuck can understand why now. everyone likes to say that seoul comes to life at night, and it does—just not in the most pleasant of ways.

of course johnny wouldn’t approve of this. donghyuck almost feels guilty for leaving without any explanation, but it’s the only way he can be isolated for however long. johnny is both the one person donghyuck can trust with anything and the one person whose overbearing presence is too much to be around sometimes.

but an echo of his manager’s nagging voice keeps pestering his thoughts, reminding him that he doesn’t have anything close to a concrete plan. in his backpack he has clothes, toiletries, his wallet with any necessary IDs, charging cables, and a credit card. he has plenty of money, so he certainly has enough to catch a bus, go sightseeing if he decides to. but he has no idea what kind of sights he wants to see, now that he’s free for an indefinite amount of time.

he hasn’t had this kind of freedom in far too long. since the age of eleven his life has fallen into a routine of dance practices and recording sessions and tv appearances. he can’t even pinpoint the last time he saw his parents.

they’ve never understood his passion. he remembers pestering his mother for months before she finally caved and took him to audition for sm. being so young, no one thought anything would come of it—not even donghyuck himself, admittedly—but a little over a week later the phone rang and his future was set in stone.

he was whisked from the simple island life to the big city, alone save his fellow trainees, all of them years older. they took him under their wing, and soon enough he was being treated like a veteran trainee who’d been there for years instead of an impressionable rookie. on the outside, he projected a mischievous, confident front, but at night he would lay in bed and wonder about the future. about whether it was all worth it.

because he’d seen friends come and go. some to bigger and better things, to debut stages and flashing lights and everything they’d ever dreamed of. others back to their hometowns, seen as failures, feeling like there wasn’t any hope for the rest of their lives, like their one shot had been blown. either way it resulted in packed suitcases and empty beds, until a select few were left behind in the dorms at night, waiting for fresh meat and wondering which path they would inevitably have to take.

donghyuck was lucky enough to get to see those flashing lights—after five years of strain, five years of tears, five years of uncertainty. five years of effort and in that time, he’s only seen his parents once or twice a year, mostly for holidays. they certainly don’t have the money to visit him, and the company doesn’t like to waste money on that sort of thing, so he was left to the occasional late night conversations at the company payphone and sloppily written letters from schoolmates. before the company provided him with a cellphone, his mom used to send him pictures of his younger siblings in the mail, as they started school and got involved in sports and clubs—experiencing everything donghyuck chose to miss out on.

sometimes he wonders if he could have been a better son. if it weren’t for his younger brothers, his mother may have never experienced a child’s life the way it should be experienced. a child’s life isn’t worrying about portion control and the chubbiness of your cheeks, or practicing until you pass out, or feeling like the people around you are only using you to scramble to the top. it isn’t being thrust into the public eye at the age of eleven and made a spectacle for someone’s entertainment, or a punching bag for angry netizens. the music world is a cutthroat industry, and donghyuck was thrown into the fray at much too young an age, he’s realized over time.

but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

last year, to repay them, he bought his parents a house. a modern-looking, three-story one, with working plumbing and electricity, a pool in the backyard, and a view of the ocean that’s to die for. it has all of the things donghyuck couldn’t have imagined growing up; and now his brothers get to live in that reality that once seemed like an unattainable dream.

a trip to jeju wouldn’t be completely out of the question. if he could somehow get to an airport, perhaps he could catch a flight, get to see the house he bought in person. but as nice as seeing his family would be, he knows every nook and cranny there is to see in his home province. its overwhelming beauty is what he’s grown used to. many travel there because it’s something they’ve never experienced before. for donghyuck, it’s anything but a novelty.

the city is what fascinates him. even after ten or so years of living there, he finds something new to appreciate, some unique place to visit. but the city is all he’s known of korea. he isn’t familiar with the countrysides, or the residential areas, the exotic gardens or the sandy beaches. he wants to see it all.

where exactly he is right now he doesn’t know, but it’s out of the way of seoul and deserted at the moment so it’ll do. he’s grown so used to busy roads and backed-up traffic that the sight of a dark, empty street is foreign and a little foreboding. but the street lamps have lit the way for the past half hour, and now a ray of orange sunlight is peeking through the gloomy gray rain clouds. donghyuck squints up at it through the early morning fog and cracks a smile.

he pulls out his burner phone from his wet pocket with a _squelch_ and snaps a quick photo of the oddly beautiful scenery before him. doing this does little to make him feel better about his predicament, in all honesty, but it’s for documentation purposes, he tells himself. in case anything interesting happens.

in the distance, he can hear the sound of car tires whooshing through puddles. he turns and spots headlights, blurry through the fog, moving in his direction. donghyuck starts towards it and sticks out a thumb. hopefully his limited knowledge of american hitchhiking films serves him well in this instance.

the car slides to a stop in front of him. it’s an old car, more rust-colored now than its original silver, compact in size, and a little worse for wear. there’s several dents on the roof. a poorly patched up crack is visible in the back window.

donghyuck stares at the clunker for a moment. suddenly, he’s stricken with the realization that this was a terrible idea, holy shit, with his luck he’s going to get _murdered_ —

“uh,” begins a voice, low in timbre. donghyuck jumps; he hadn’t noticed the window rolling down. “you gonna get in or not?”

looks like his death wish has been answered—in the form of a sinfully attractive boy grinning lopsidedly at him behind the wheel.

and, well, donghyuck has always been a sucker for a pretty smile.

  


🛣

  


yukhei stares at the photo on his screen, then at the sleeping boy in the seat beside him.

it’s undeniably the same person. the slope of the noses are smooth and end in plump button shapes. the cupid’s bow is prominent and gives way to the same pouty, slightly chapped lips. his hair now is a natural brunette, while the boy in the picture yukhei has pulled up on google is sporting a fiery faux fire-engine red mop, but the unique facial features make the resemblance irrefutable.

yukhei turns his phone off and lets it rest on the seat between his thighs. it’s been silent for half an hour or so, since he opened the notification for an article jeno sent their group chat and matched the face of the missing idol to the kid conked out in his passenger’s seat.

it’s an odd situation to be in. of all the things yukhei’s experienced in this one year alone, he thinks this may take the spot for the weirdest. because here’s the thing about famous people: they have a place to be. a pedestal to stand upon. they don’t belong on the sides of country roads, unless they’re miley cyrus in _hannah montana: the movie_ (which chenle forced them to watch last night, okay). they have schedules, and even when they don’t, they just… don’t exist, in yukhei’s mind. celebrities are like mythical creatures; you don’t just stumble across them in the wild.

he’s never understood the obsession jeno has always had over celebrities. yukhei hasn’t ever had much time or enough dedication to be as devoted to his favorite musicians or actors (kim sohyun aside). but for jeno, his music taste is his identity. he’s shaped a lifestyle, an online alter-ego, entire _friendships_ based around his treasured idols.

and sure, yukhei may be out of the loop (the only music he’s bothered to listen to all school year is courtesy of jaehyun blasting lil pump from the apartment over every day), but he knows that haechan is a Big Deal right now. out of all the celebrities jeno has ever expressed an interest in over the years, haechan is the only one yukhei can see himself being a fan of.

he’s been around for forever, it seems. ever since he made his first public appearance at the age of eleven in some sm rookies reality show, he’s been the apple of the public’s eye. people loved him, and thus he debuted much earlier than originally scheduled—at onethree, making him one of the youngest idols ever to debut.

yukhei knows all of this because one, jeno only talks about haechan every second of every day, and two, he remembers coming across the sm rookies show once or twice while he was in middle school. he’d been improving his korean at the time, and watching dramas and shows like that helped him immensely. so he has some vague recollections of haechan’s eleven-year-old self, but this young man (who’s turning eighteen in four days, _famousbirthdays.com_ tells him) could very well be an entirely different person by now.

in physical aspects, haechan has certainly changed. there’s some baby fat still evident in his cheeks, but everything else about him is shapely and mature, rounded in a way that retains some youthfulness to it. yukhei tries to keep his eyes on the road instead of tracing over the rips in the boy’s jeans, or the jut of his bottom lip.

he hadn’t bothered to introduce himself when he clambered into the car, just fired off three sentences in rapid succession without waiting for a response in between: _“you’re not gonna kill me, right? cool? cool.”_ he then proceeded to make himself comfortable in his seat, with lots of shuffling, and dozed off against the window.

yukhei doesn’t even know where this guy is going. jeno made it clear that haechan’s motive for disappearing is unknown, given the fact that —kidnapping is even a possible theory. what he _does_ know, though, is that he doesn’t want to get wrapped up in this mess. the sooner he can drop this kid off somewhere, the better.

the question that lingers is how he should go about this. asking jeno for help is off limits, because he’d go fucking insane, and, to be honest, yukhei doesn’t feel like talking to him right now. as much as he loves them, chenle and jisung are snitches, plain and simple. his mom might have some sound advice, but in the end her motherly instincts would kick in and she’d go off about _Stranger Danger_.

a lot of the people in yukhei’s life are quite high-strung, have been for as long as he’s known them. jeno always studied his ass off in school, preparing for every test like it was the last one he’d ever take. he crumpled at the slightest hint of criticism, even though all he does is talk bad about himself. chenle gave his all to basketball, every shred of his being and every ounce of strength. he treated every mistake and even the tiniest slip-ups as life-ruining. jisung spent hours after school in the dance studio, until his bones lost all feeling and he was unable to move another muscle. he held the weight of his family’s expectations on his shoulders, and wouldn’t accept a performance from himself that was any less than perfect.

yukhei was the one without a concrete passion for the longest time. he’d tried some half-hearted hobbies in the past, shown by the dusty guitar in the corner of his room and the broken skateboard somewhere in the depths of his closet, but throughout high school he never found something that made him feel fulfilled, feel worthwhile. now that he’s studying at university, working toward a tangible goal, his path feels more solidified, but just a year or two ago, well—that’s an entirely different story.

rather than searching for an activity to find enjoyment in, yukhei’s passion was—well, being _passionate._ as the oldest member of their friend group, he took it upon himself to make sure none of the younger boys ever felt left out, or down for any reason. he was the one reading off flashcards for jeno late into the night, calming him down over the phone the night before a big test. he was the one attending all of chenle’s basketball games, homemade banners and all, cheering at the top of his lungs and treating him to a hearty meal afterwards. he was the one to sit front row at every single dance recital, presenting jisung with bouquets of flowers and the hugs and forehead kisses his youngest friend’s parents were too high and mighty to give.

yukhei was the one who was there for them, every step of the way, and he doesn’t expect or ask for anything in return. because he knows that as much as they want to, they can’t ever repay the things yukhei has done for them. and it’s not their fault; if anything, it’s on him for giving too much of himself away.

but them being there was enough, always has been enough. it was enough when they crammed together on yukhei’s bed every friday night, watching chenle’s shitty dubbed disney movies, and fell asleep tangled together after whispering about everything and nothing. it was enough when they sat together at lunch, sharing food and jokes and sneaking things out of jisung’s gourmet packed lunch when he wasn’t looking. it was enough when the three of them were sitting in the front row of church pews, smiling encouragingly at yukhei as he stood beside his mother at the altar and watched as she finally indulged herself in true happiness.

as much as his sentimental heart yearns for them to be here, jeno sat beside him with chenle and jisung in the backseat like they were everyday after school, he knows this was the right choice to make—because he’s scared. he’s found that passion now, that spark that makes life worth living, but the effort he’s put into working towards it has drained him and left him a mere shell of what he was then; he still loves them—more than words can express—but he’s worn down. he used to be the strongest one of them all, the one who was always a shoulder to cry on, but now he feels like a weak link in their otherwise unbreakable chain.

it’s partly because of university having broken him mentally and emotionally, and partly because of last night—how his eyes always fell to jeno, tracing over his strong jawline, the prominent bridge of his nose, the moles on his cheek. how he ended up squished on either side of chenle and jisung on his bed because jeno silently refused to be near him. how when yukhei reached out blindly in the dark with only the light of the tv to guide him, and found jeno’s hand resting on chenle’s arm, jeno had squirmed his palm out of yukhei’s grip and turned over to scoot further to the wall, his back facing the three of them.

thankfully they all live in the same complex, only floors apart, because he didn’t know how much more he could take of jeno laying there motionless, not saying anything to any of them. he’d left the house first without a word, jisung slowly following, and chenle had squeezed yukhei’s shoulder before trailing behind them.

waiting for him in the kitchen as he came back inside from seeing them off, two cups of warm tea in front of her, was his mom. she’d smiled, soft and pretty and youthful for a woman getting up in her years, and yukhei had collapsed into the chair opposite her and talked. talked about school, about jungwoo and the rest of the eclectic bunch he’s met there, about jeno and how he’s distancing himself and how it _hurts,_ mom, it hurts because i’ve done nothing but love him and he brushes it off and treats it like something we can just gloss over and he expects me to be fine with it but i’m _not._ i’m not.

she sent him off to bed with dainty tears that somehow complemented yukhei’s gross, snotty ones, and a soft kiss to his hair. yukhei lays in his bed for a while, staring at the ceiling and drifting in and out of consciousness, until his 6am alarm went off with its usual ear splitting blare, announcing that it was time for him to get up.

his face is still a little puffy, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. he hasn’t properly slept in 48 hours because the plane ride was a turbulent bitch and the dregs of jet-lag are still clinging to his body clock that’s still stuck in pacific time. there’s a thermos of shitty sour coffee in the cupholder next to him and he’s hardly taken a sip.

this silence is deafening for yukhei’s adhd-addled brain, and it only amplifies his insecurities as the anxious thoughts bounce around his skull. he’s hyper-aware of everything around him; the thump of tires against asphalt, the whipping of wind from the crack in his window, haechan’s steady breathing. he itches to turn on the radio but instead settles for drumming his fingers against the wheel to a song that exists only in his mind. his leg jiggles up and down in the confined space of his seat.

yukhei’s always been too big for his car. it’s a shitty ’04 dodge neon, after all. his knees are bunched up even when the seat is pushed back all the way. getting in and out of the trash can on wheels should be considered an olympic sport.

but haechan fits in perfectly. his legs are tucked awkwardly underneath him as he takes full advantage of the space with his lithe, significantly smaller frame. he’s shivering a little in his sopping wet clothes. yukhei turns his window down a bit more and at the same time cranks up the hot air. it’s the least he can do for someone who’s inevitably going to be a little privileged brat to him when he wakes up.

so yukhei appreciates the silence while he can and sets his gaze on the road ahead, this time determined to keep it there.

  


🛣

  


donghyuck wakes up and forgets where he is for a moment.

his cheek is digging into an uncomfortable leather seat. he feels warm and cozy, though. there’s a blanket around his waist that was definitely not there when he got in, but his clothes are less waterlogged, so he appreciates it.

“where to, dude?” the hulking mass of man beside him asks.

okay, maybe donghyuck’s exaggerating a bit. but this guy is manspreading in the driver’s seat because he must have no other choice; his thighs take up a good 2 feet of space by themselves. the width of his shoulders probably takes up more. he was wearing a flannel earlier but it’s gone now, revealing the white t-shirt underneath. his arms are muscular but not in an intimidating, i-can-throw-you-off a-cliff kind of way.

in fact, there’s nothing to suggest that this guy is someone to fear. his face is sculpted and handsome, with wide brown eyes, strong eyebrows, honey brown hair that hangs in his face messily, an upturned nose, and plump lips that look like he’s constantly on the front page of a haute couture advertisement. he’s smiling patiently, creases in his cheeks, as donghyuck sorts through his delusional thirst thoughts and realizes he doesn’t have an answer to the guy’s question.

he stretches, relishing in the knowledge that the guy eyes the sliver of stomach exposed by his hoodie riding up. “wherever you go, i guess.” he shrugs and gets out his phone. feigning disinterest and hoping he’ll accept seems like the best option.

the guy doesn’t look impressed. “listen, dude, i wasn’t planning on having company along for the duration of this trip, so… you’re gonna have to tell me where to drop you off.”

donghyuck snorts. who even says _duration_ anymore? “hate to break it to you, _dude,_ but you’re stuck with me for now. or else.”

in the side mirror, he sees the guy’s expression turn sour. “or else what? you’ll send your bodyguards after me? because i have a feeling that you wouldn’t want them to know where you are right now.”

donghyuck stiffens before he can stop himself from reacting. “i didn’t think you’d know me,” he admits. when he first got in he hadn’t thought about it, but the guy didn’t ask for his autograph or anything, so he figured he was in the clear. “what, you want an autograph or something?”

“no i don’t want an _autograph,_ ” the guy sneers. “i only know you because my friend’s obsessed with you, for some reason,” he mutters as an afterthought, and wow, rude much? it isn’t _donghyuck’s_ fault that this dude’s friend prefers a celebrity over him.

it’s a given that not everyone is going to like him. donghyuck gets that. in fact, it’s a given that some people flat out hate him. but he’s done absolutely _nothing_ to give this guy any reason to dislike him, and he’s in too deep now to just cave in when he’s been through much worse than this.

the highway traffic has them stopped indefinitely, and the stillness is making donghyuck uneasy. “you got somewhere to be?” he asks, looking up from his screen to meet the guy’s eyes. they’re unfairly huge and puppy-like, and he must know this, because they get even bigger when they lock with donghyuck’s, like he’s silently begging for him to leave.

donghyuck’s always up for a challenge.

“no, but i don’t want to get wrapped up in your little pr ploy to get some attention.”

their biting words held friendly undertones before, but now this guy’s taken it a step too far. “don’t make assumptions about my life,” donghyuck warns.

the cars around them start moving again and the guy stamps down on the pedal with far too much force, so much so that it slams donghyuck back against his seat. the guy’s teeth are clenched, knuckles white as he clutches the steering wheel.

okay, he’s a little scary now.

“i—i won’t bother you, or anything.” that’s a lie. donghyuck is notoriously bothersome. “i have plenty of money, so i can pay for whatever you need.” that is not a lie. donghyuck is swimming in more cash than he knows what to do with.

he watches the guy weigh his options for a minute, glare fading. “this whole trip was about having some me time,” he says to himself, and he sounds so put-out that donghyuck almost flings himself out of the car right then and there, “but fine. as long as you let me decide where we go, you can stay.”

that’s a relatively easy ultimatum to work with. donghyuck, however, can’t help but fuck around, because of course he can’t. “i’ll let you decide where we go as long as it’s within my interest,” he grins. “how does that sound?”

the guy lets out a little disbelieving laugh. “whatever you say, _your majesty_.”

if he thinks referring to donghyuck like he’s royalty will phase him, he has greatly underestimated his ego. “you flatter me, chauffeur,” donghyuck cocks his head to the side and puts on his best coquettish smile. “though i suppose you’d want to tell me your name so i can treat you with some human decency.”

donghyuck isn’t sure if he’s imagining the flush on the guy’s cheeks or not. “wong yukhei,” he replies. it sounds nice, he has to admit. just the right amount of Dudebro to suit someone like him. “and yours is?”

“haechan,” donghyuck answers. “you knew that already.” maybe if he keeps up the dumb and pretty facade, he can get away with avoiding the personal shit.

yukhei spares him a callous glance. “like that’s your real name,” he scoffs.

with a punctuated huff, donghyuck crosses his arms and rolls down his window. the air conditioning is blistering hot and it’s starting to make him sweat. he smells the air, fresh with fallen rain and the scent of the hydrangea bushes lining the winding rural road they’re on.

he doesn’t say anything more on the subject of names, and in turn, yukhei doesn’t ask. donghyuck admires the green countryside rolling by with his chin resting on the edge of the window, letting the wind ruffle his hair as he thinks this through.

so it doesn’t seem like yukhei will murder him or anything, which is cool. he’s a bit of an ass, but so donghyuck is himself, and their bickering has been pretty entertaining thus far.

he hadn’t expected things to go this smoothly. a part of him was ready to turn around and get back to the company and just act like he went out for a spontaneous walk in the pouring rain (it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he’s ever done). you can’t be a failure if no one else knows you even attempted something.

so what’s the plan? 

yukhei turns on the radio eventually, keeping it quiet to create a pleasant ambience. donghyuck can picture this sort of scene in a movie; the sprawling rice paddies of andong flying by and donghyuck watching it all with his hand out the window, the breeze brushing along his fingertips and whispering through the tall blades of evergreen grass just out of his reach.

this is about as country as country can get, as far as donghyuck is concerned. they’re only on the outskirts of andong, passing by it from above, but he can see the traditional korean buildings huddled together in small villages, connected by one huge lake. he’s a little disappointed that yukhei doesn’t stop here, but it’s almost noon by now. donghyuck’s bladder suddenly feels full—and his stomach is quite the opposite.

he pulls back in. his reflection in the windshield is ridiculous; hair windswept and going in all different directions, prominent eyebags and dry lips that he frowns at. “we stopping soon?” he asks, eyeing yukhei’s side profile to gauge his answer.

he shrugs. “you want to?” he asks, brows knitted. “i don’t have anywhere to be.”

donghyuck nods, and yukhei switches into a different lane, one that will take them off the highway and to one of those towns populated with restaurants and hotels and such for people passing through. “you’re just drifting, then?” he can’t help but wonder aloud.

yukhei shrugs again. “pretty much. thought i’d go around the country, see a few things, meet a few people. but now my hands are full with this annoying hitchhiker, you see,” he begins, mouth twitching, “he thinks he owns this car after being in it for 2 hours.”

donghyuck hums. “he sounds wonderful, i’d love to meet him.”

“oh, did i mention he thinks he’s hot shit? mistakenly so, i might add.”

donghyuck is _not_ going to admit that was a good one.

they stop at a rest area after twenty minutes or so. “you’re on snack duty,” yukhei tells him, handing over a couple of crumpled won notes. “i’m getting gas.”

donghyuck looks down at the money in his fist, and then back up at an expectant yukhei. “what part of _’i have plenty of money’_ did you not understand?”

“you can pay for something when i ’deem it necessary,’” yukhei says, with added air quotes, and damn, does he shrugs a lot. it brings attention to those wide shoulders he has.

donghyuck pulls up the face mask around his neck to hide, sliding on his sunglasses to complete the anonymous disguise. somewhere during the drive he’d taken off his hoodie and thrown it into the untidy backseat, leaving him in his torn-up jeans, converse, and michael jackson t-shirt.

it’s sweltering inside the store. donghyuck tugs at his shirt collar and starts raiding the snack aisle, making a mental note to look for a headband as he feels the sweat beading on his hairline.

he’s not the type to refer to anything as _Peasant’s Food,_ but he hasn’t been to a gas station and seen these greasy snacks in the longest time. not that his meals at the company are gourmet, but they’re homemade and fresh and healthy. he can’t recall the last time he ate _snack food_ that wasn’t carrot sticks or kale chips.

this is his chance to go hog wild.

when yukhei finds him five minutes later, donghyuck is struggling, arms laden with chips, chocolates, and those cheaply made mini tarts that are a guilty pleasure. yukhei raises an eyebrow.

“i have a big appetite,” donghyuck says meekly. voice muffled by the mask. yukhei just shakes his head, plucks each item from his grip, and dumps them on the closest checkout counter with ease.

there’s a milkshake place across the road, and after they stuff the more meltable items into a small cooler yukhei brought along, they walk over and buy two. donghyuck sucks at his straw, mask pulled down around his neck, and sits down on the curb outside the gas station. yukhei follows suit.

“care to share why you’re presumed missing?”

there it is. donghyuck was wondering when he was going to bring it up. he’s honestly surprised yukhei hasn’t sold him out to the internet in exchange for his peace and quiet back yet.

it’s his turn to shrug as he squints up at the sun. “to tell you the truth, i don’t know. it’s not for _attention,_ though.” he shoots a glare yukhei’s way, and the taller boy raises his hands up in the air in surrender. “i’ve never been around places like this before, since i live in seoul. got the random urge to go out and see what it’s like.”

he’s stretching the truth a bit. he’s had the thought in mind for a long time. island life was invigorating and there was never a dull moment, but it’s nothing special to him anymore. exploring all of south korea, though, is something he has yet to do. the bag he brought with him sat in the corner of his dorm for weeks before he’d had the final straw last night and started shoving things into it haphazardly (there’s a reason why donghyuck isn’t allowed to plan things).

“i get that,” yukhei says, and donghyuck doesn’t think he does, but keeps his mouth shut. “i’ve spent the past five years studying my ass off, so i haven’t been able to get out much.”

donghyuck can’t relate. it’s been more than a year since he dropped out of high school to focus on his career. it was with johnny’s blessing, though taeyong wasn’t entirely on board with it, but it was the right decision in the end. life has never been about academics for donghyuck. since he was young he’s lived and breathed music, performance, the need to be someone greater. even if idol life confines him in a box, it’s wider than the box of someone resigning themselves to a life of mundanity.

yukhei seems like the sort of person to be the same. “you’re in university, then?” donghyuck asks him. he nods. “what do you do?”

“i, uh, major in linguistics. with a minor in pathology.”

donghyuck only has a vague idea of what those things mean, so it must be some pretty advanced stuff. “what kind of career are you hoping to get out of that?”

the painfully awkward, small talk-esque questions are making him cringe internally, but he may as well get to know yukhei. things have hit a lull at the moment, but overall, they’ve been getting along pretty well for complete strangers.

yukhei sips at his milkshake. the condensation from the cup is dripping down his fingers. “i want to be a speech pathologist,” he answers, wiping a fleck of chocolate from his bottom lip. “they work with kids with learning disabilities or speech problems, things like that, and help them correct their impediments early on.”

...damn. “wow, that’s—that’s admirable,” donghyuck blurts, and he hates himself for not being a little more well-spoken, but the embarrassed smile that yukhei’s sporting, accompanied by a rosy hue dusting his cheeks, makes the slip-up worth it.

“thanks, it’s… taken a lot of work,” yukhei admits with a little laugh, scratching sheepishly at the back of his neck. “i imagine you put a lot of effort into what you do, too.”

donghyuck ducks his head. he picks at a loose thread on his jeans with one hand. “i guess,” he concedes. “not as much as what you do, though. i don’t have to study shit for hours or anything.”

“but you do have to practice a bunch,” yukhei points out. “my friend’s gone off on hour-long rants detailing how hard you’ve worked, so. i know quite a bit.”

“i apologize for her, then,” donghyuck chuckles. “there’s not much worth knowing about me.”

“it’s a him, actually,” yukhei says. he’s frowning, microscopically so, but it still catches donghyuck’s attention.

“something up?” he asks, hesitant. he watches yukhei fiddle with the small black stud in his right ear, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

yukhei lets out a nervous chuckle. “no, it’s just that i—i think everyone is worth knowing, you know?”

he stands up, then, leaving a bewildered donghyuck on the curb. “we should leave in a few,” he says, looking anywhere but at donghyuck. “i’m gonna go to the bathroom really quick.”

donghyuck watches him walk away, trying not to eye his (objectively nice) butt in those jeans. he sighs, trying and failing to make a trick shot with his milkshake cup in a nearby trash can.

looks like this trip is going to be more intriguing than meets the eye.

  


🛣

  


it was yukhei’s intention to get through this trip without haechan having to spend a single penny, but that resolve goes down the drain the second his eyes bug out at the prices for their first motel they stop at.

and now, here they are, standing together in the doorway, staring at the tiny twin bed in the center of the room, and the idol’s pocket is roughly $75 lighter.

“i paid,” haechan speaks up.

“you got to sleep for hours in the car,” yukhei points out.

something about rain must make haechan’s body shut down, because when the gales started up again an hour or so after they set off again, he was out like a light. he slept through the rain pounding down on the windows and the roof, and even through the loud honking of horns as dumbasses who didn’t turn on their headlights nearly got run over.

“yeah, and i’m still tired,” haechan snaps. he crosses his arms, trying to look threatening. unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work, but yukhei isn’t in the mood to argue.

he shoves past haechan into the room and throws his suitcase onto the floor with a loud _thump._ he kneels down to pull out some pajamas and toiletries he’d brought with him, not even bothering to see what haechan’s doing before he locks himself in the bathroom for a much needed shower.

as the water cascades from his hair to his toes, he wonders how the hell he got himself in this situation. haechan is famous, and stuck-up, yet at the same time down-to-earth. whenever he’s awake he’s been pretty quiet, apart from their gas station conversation. yukhei thinks that’s partly due to the initial shyness, because the haechan he remembers from tv warms up to people quite quickly.

but the interest he’d taken in yukhei’s field of study, even if it was for the sake of sparing them from awkward silence, was appreciated. the only other person that gets how much effort he puts into studying and maintaining his grades is jungwoo—because he witnesses yukhei’s breakdowns firsthand—but it’s nice to hear from someone outside his major that what he’s doing will bring some good in the world. and from an idol, no less, who has one of the most worthwhile careers there is to have.

speaking of idols, there’s an interesting situation developing online: mark lee, aka haechan’s best friend and another popular music artist, supposedly got wasted at a club earlier tonight. and mark was seen getting cozy (grossly, yukhei might add, he’s seen the photos) with a male trainee from their company. as jeno’s internet friend jaemin would say, _“the tea is piping hot.”_

he wonders if he should tell haechan about it. judging by the limited conversation they’ve shared so far, he’s not the type to talk much about things below the surface. and they barely know each other.

yukhei isn’t dumb. he’s been privy to quite a few of jeno and jaemin’s late-night skype screaming sessions, so he isn’t a stranger to the popular phenomenon of _shipping._ jeno has shown him more threads detailing the potential relationship between haechan and mark then he can count. and he has to admit, the evidence is pretty damning—on haechan’s end, at least. mark always seemed more Straight Dudebro That Occasionally Engages in Homosexually-Charged Activity to yukhei than anything else.

but now that pictures of mark nuzzling some guy’s neck have come to light, it appears that yukhei’s assumptions were wrong. he’s surprised jeno hasn’t come screaming to him over text yet (yukhei’s been checking the news casually when he can to make sure he isn’t public enemy no. 1 or anything), but of course, jeno has jaemin for that.

in truth, yukhei’s never known how to feel about jaemin. he’s known jeno for almost as long as yukhei has. even though they’ve never met in person, the two of them get along incredibly well. yukhei’s never seen jeno be that expressive with someone before.

he’s tried to be happy for jeno and the fact that he’s made friends that make him happy, but the jealousy gets to him too easily. in the months without proper, face to face contact, it’s quite possible that jeno realized how good-looking he is and used that confidence to go out with people. or maybe he spent nine months online with jaemin, gossiping about celebrities into the wee hours of the night. yukhei doesn’t know which sounds worse.

jaemin is pretty, and kind, and confident. jeno rambles about him constantly, and even when he isn’t, jaemin still manages to weave his way into conversations without being present. yukhei’s endured this for three years, and the ache in his chest has never gone away.

his thoughts shut off along with the shower, leaving him standing there blissfully blank for a moment. he towels off his hair and slips into sweats and a hoodie, every movement sluggish.

haechan has claimed the bed in his absence, looking at something on his phone. his expression is stony. yukhei has an inkling that he may have seen the photos, but he can’t be sure. it could just be his incredibly bitchy resting face.

their room is small, but there’s just enough room for another bed. with that in mind, yukhei shoves his bare feet into his sneakers and starts for the door.

“hey, where are you going?” haechan scrambles to get out of bed, headphones tangling in the sheets, but yukhei stops him with a hand.

“be right back,” he says, and shuts the door.

when haechan lets him in a few minutes later and sees the folded cot he’s holding (courtesy of the grumpy woman at reception), his expression is comically surprised, all wide eyes and flushed cheeks. yukhei sets it up in a cramped corner of the room and gingerly sits on its edge.

now that he’s clean and the lights are on, he takes a moment to observe their room. it’s a little on the shabby side, with chipping paint and a dirty mirror hanging above the tiny bed. on the bedside table with a phone to call reception and an alarm clock, and a drawer that probably has a bible in it or something.

haechan’s made himself comfortable under the covers once more, already half asleep with his headphones still in. his lips are moving along to whatever song he’s listening to, eyes closed and head lolling from side to side. it’s an annoyingly endearing sight.

he doesn’t complain when yukhei turns off the light, just sets his phone on the table and rolls over into immediate slumber. yukhei, on the other hand, tries not to snap the cot in half as he tosses and turns to get comfy. the mattress is stiff and it sinks dangerously low under his weight.

_his phone is lying inches away from his face, the screen dark and dormant of any notifications._

on screen, haechan dances with such aplomb that it’s damn near impossible to tear his eyes from him. his movements have a measured grace to them, every curve and angle memorized and positioned in the exact same manner every time. yukhei knows a good dancer when he sees one, after years of watching jisung’s recitals, and there is no question that haechan deserves to be considered amongst the top in his field.

__

it makes yukhei wonder the real reasons haechan left it all behind, why he’s running from the thing he loves most; but in the end, he supposes it may be critical to do so.

_  
_

_🛣_

 _

  


_

yukhei isn’t there when donghyuck wakes up the first time around.

__

he sits up, fully ready to bother yukhei and tease him about how much he snores, but the cot is empty, the sheets rumpled and messy.

__

the clock beside the bed reads _three thirteen am._

__

donghyuck flops back down and almost immediately falls back asleep, seeing nothing but darkness for the next few hours. 

__

when he next wakes up it’s eight on the dot, and yukhei is stripping the cot of the sheets provided by the motel. “you should get ready,” he begins when he notices donghyuck staring at him in a daze. “we’ll leave in half an hour.”

__

donghyuck scowls at yukhei’s turned back and stands up with a _crick._ he is _not_ leaving this place with only thirty minutes of effort put into his appearance.

__

so he takes his grand old time in the shower, making sure he smells all lavender-y. next he washes his face, uses each and every one of the dozen or so skincare products that he owns and carefully lathers them all over his skin. then he blow dries what’s still wet of his hair and combs it with care, paying special attention to each and every flyaway.

__

at the fifty minute mark yukhei pounds on the door and tells him he’s got ten minutes. donghyuck smiles to himself. that means he has 40.

__

when he emerges from the bathroom with a cloud of steam, yukhei is sitting on the bed, waiting. their stuff is nowhere to be seen, except for donghyuck’s bag, which is in yukhei’s gigantic hands.

__

“i packed everything else up so we wouldn’t waste more time,” he says with faux sweetness, shoving the bag into donghyuck’s chest. “now hurry, please. i had a plan for today, and i’d like to execute it before the end of the century.”

__

he looks so desperate and irritated at the same time. reluctantly, donghyuck takes the bag and shoves his products into it, not bothering to pack them in neatly. when he’s done, yukhei has a tight grip on his shoulders and is steering him out the door.

__

“excuse you, my life is insured for more than anything you’ve ever owned in your life,” donghyuck tells him as yukhei herds him into the car, holding the door open all polite-like before he slams it the second donghyuck gets in.

__

“you’re an sm artist, not the next royal prince. your precious company’s probably had to pay lawsuits worth more than your entire existence.”

__

damn, donghyuck felt that.

__

yukhei speeds off the second their seatbelts are buckled. donghyuck feels a faint sense of panic. "you’re not going to _actually_ murder me, are you?” he stammers.

__

yukhei laughs. not the most ideal response donghyuck would like in this situation. “we’ve known each other for, like, a full 24 hours now and you’re _just now_ checking back in since i didn’t answer that question the first time you asked? wow dude, your parents didn’t teach you about Stranger Danger.” and, well, _that’s_ incredibly hypocritical.

__

_“_ that’s incredibly hypocritical,” donghyuck says. “and don’t call me _dude._ call me haechan, for fuck’s sake. that’s my name.”

“but it’s _nooooot,_ ” yukhei sings in a horribly tone deaf voice. “and it sounds dumb.”

donghyuck gasps. “it does _not._ it means ’full sun.’”

yukhei snorts. “ah, yes, because you’re the embodiment of sunshine.”

“my fans like to think so,” donghyuck grumbles, reaching into his pocket for his headphones.

he doesn’t like not having the upper hand in conversations. the more he talks to yukhei, the more he’s painting himself out to be some whiny kid. he’s almost eighteen, he should know better than to let this guy affect him.

but he’s just so _infuriating,_ with his handsome face and impressive build and donghyuck’s a little jealous, okay? the guy is built like an adonis and oh look, sitting next to him is shrimpy little donghyuck, probably whining about something again.

they don’t speak for the next few hours. donghyuck stays awake this time though, head against the glass as he watches the street fly by underneath yukhei’s tires. he makes it though a couple of tvxq albums and then moves on to mark’s latest release.

when mark isn’t on the stage, or hanging with donghyuck and some of their trainee friends, he’s holed up in the studio, writing and recording and producing. he has heaps more musical talent than even the best producers at sm, and at nineteen is already set to be a legend in the music business. donghyuck trusts his judgement and talent more than anything, which is why he chose mark to be his lead producer for his latest mini album. mark takes the time to listen through and pick apart the inconsistencies and mistakes, makes sure that the finished product is something both he and donghyuck can be proud of.

that drive and the care he places in everything he does is one of the many things donghyuck loves about him.

he misses mark, he realizes as one of the album’s more melancholy tracks begins. he usually does, since they don’t get much time together, what with their busy schedules and all. and now that donghyuck’s left and has avoided checking any social media and online news sites and such, he finds himself wondering if mark even cares that he’s gone.

maybe a part of this _is_ for attention, like yukhei said. he hates to think of it that way, but the more he thinks about it the more he realizes how it certainly seems like this was all a ploy to make mark and his managers realize how important donghyuck is to them. it sounds like something he would do.

in that moment, he hates yukhei a little bit. hates him for being able to read him so well after only 24 hours, and for keeping his composure when donghyuck tries his best to pester him.

at some point, donghyuck does end up drifting off. he feels a hand shaking his shoulder with extreme hesitance, and tries to bat it away. “we’re here, sunshine,” yukhei croons in a _wakey wakey_ kind of tone, and donghyuck groans.

“don’t tell me you don’t like that nickname, either. i’m working with limited resources.”

“shut _up,_ oh my god,” donghyuck half-demands, half-giggles. he’s a bit loopy right now from the lack of food and yukhei’s gravelly morning voice is making his thoughts even fuzzier.

“that was the cutest thing ever, but we should get out of the car or people might think you’re dead.”

“good riddance,” is the second thing that comes to mind (the first being _’cutest thing ever?’_ , but luckily that one doesn’t make it through the brain to mouth filter), so he spits it out and burrows further into the safety of his hoodie. “let them think that. maybe they’ll assume you’re a murderer and i’ll be free of you.”

“unless you’re skilled at climbing out of graves, maybe pretending to die isn’t the best way to get me out of your hair.” donghyuck can _see_ the smirk on yukhei’s lips without having to open his eyes and check.

of course he has to be kind of funny and play into all of donghyuck’s dumb, convoluted jokes (slash truthful statements, because he may or may not have been plotting murder last night. yukhei snores like a goddamn lawn mower). “mmph,” he says eloquently, and decides to throw in the towel.

when he opens his eyes he looks anywhere but at yukhei, because he knows he’ll be sitting there grinning like a fool and donghyuck’s stomach will do A Flippy Thing. but of course, when he braves a quick glance because he’s a weak bitch, yukhei’s watching him with his eyebrows raised and a fading smile plastered on his dumb face and donghyuck’s stomach still does A Flippy Thing. he scowls down at it. _traitor._

the second he gets out of the car, yukhei is dragging him by the wrist from a parking garage to a bustling street market nearby. “where are we?” donghyuck asks, looking around them in utter fascination.

he’s used to seeing large crowds of people cramming together in areas like this, because he’s seen plenty of that in seoul, but seeing said people _interacting_ with each other, rather than shoving their way past strangers without a second thought, is a comforting sight.

“nambu market, in jeonju,” yukhei replies. there’s a basket hanging on his right arm. lord knows where he got it from. “i figured we could get some stuff for lunch here.”

donghyuck furrows his brow. since the rest of his face is concealed by his mask, he utilizes his eyebrows to express a majority of his emotions. “where are we gonna prepare the food, though?”

yukhei really needs to stop smiling. it’s doing weird things to donghyuck’s insides. he briefly considers removing all of yukhei’s teeth while he sleeps—example number one why donghyuck needs johnny and taeyong around to act as his impulse control—but in the meantime averts his gaze. “i brought along a picnic blanket for this very reason, sunshine. don’t sweat it.”

donghyuck doesn’t know what to do with this newfound pet name that’s meant to mock him, or the fact that his stupid brain is repeating the phrase _picnic date picnic date picnic date_ on constant loop. so he does what he does best: stamps everything deep, deep down and acts like yukhei never even said anything.

he didn’t check the time before getting out of the car, and his phone is somewhere in the depths of his pockets. judging by his surroundings, it must be around noon, because the sun is in the center of the empty expanse of sky and beating down with relentless heat. donghyuck fans himself with a sweaty hand and licks his dry lips. he’s fucking _parched._

yukhei’s chin is about level with donghyuck’s forehead, so there’s not much of a height difference between them, but donghyuck feels so tiny beside him that he finds himself shrinking into yukhei’s side as they squeeze past chattering aunties and squealing children chasing after one another.

colorful stands line the streets, advertising farm-grown food, freshly-caught fish, homemade jewelry and the like. brightly smiling vendors call out their prices, while fussy ahjussis haggle with them. the scene before donghyuck reminds him so much of home that a pang of nostalgia hits him in the chest. jeju has the same outdoor markets on practically every day of the year, and he has fond memories of walking along the streets hand in hand with his mother, basking in the sun and letting the warm concrete burn the soles of his bare feet.

he’s in his element under the sun. he doesn’t think his skin has ever burned before; the honey-glazed tone only gets richer. in recent years, he spends more time inside, but he’s always been darker-skinned than most.

it’s something he’s chosen to take pride in. his skin is just as much a part of him as anything else, and the only thing he can do is embrace it. it’s what makes his appearance unique.

yukhei’s skin is of a similar shade, though his is more golden than brown. he sparkles in the light at certain angles when donghyuck sneaks a peek at him every once in awhile, like he’s a fucking twilight vampire brought to life or something.

(maybe donghyuck’s more out of touch with the heat than he thought. he’s got to be going loopy.)

yukhei takes the lead in every conversation instigated by an exuberant vendor. donghyuck notes that his language is a little skewed, relying on key phrases to get through sentences. he forgets the names of a few items here and there, which donghyuck rushes to fill in for him.

it’s odd, but yukhei looks kind of ambiguously asian so it’s possible that he’s not a korean native. he speaks a little loudly and the articulation is a bit over the top. donghyuck doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, but the jeolla dialect is strong here, and it’s clearly confusing yukhei’s standard-oriented brain.

“where are you from?” donghyuck asks when they’re leaving the market after several hours of browsing and are on the way to catch a bus to deokjin park. the streets are just as busy around here as they were at the market. donghyuck has an arm casually hooked through yukhei’s to make sure he doesn’t get caught up in the crowd (casually his ass. donghyuck is slowly dying).

“hong kong,” yukhei replies. he looks a bit fidgety. “i moved to seoul just before starting high school.”

that explains the language dilemma, then. no wonder yukhei wants to help kids with speech problems. “so i’m sorry for acting like an idiot back there,” he adds. “i’ve been abroad for nine months, so.”

“not your fault,” donghyuck waves off. “just be thankful you have me, your trusty translator, by your side.”

yukhei snickers. “of course. i’m forever indebted to you, sunshine.”

there’s that nickname again, the one that makes donghyuck’s cheeks darken and his fists clench at the same time. _he’s_ supposed to be the confident and flirty one, damnit.

“where are _you_ from?” yukhei asks. he’s asking for the sake of keeping their conversation going, but he also looks legitimately curious.

“oh, has your friend never mentioned it? i just assumed you knew everything about me,” donghyuck goads, gently nudging yukhei in the side.

it has the intended effect; yukhei goes pink, and laughs at his shoes. “he might have, for all i know. i usually tune him out, especially when it comes to you.”

donghyuck pulls a petulant face. “i’m offended on behalf of both me and your friend, wong.”

“oh, we’ve dropped down to last name basis now?” yukhei grins, as they sit down beside each other at a bus station bench. “that hurts....” he pauses, staring at donghyuck imploringly.

“oof. poor ploy to try and get me to reveal my real name, _wong,_ ” donghyuck sticks out his tongue at yukhei, who does the same right back. “0 out of 10.”

“one day, i’ll find out,” yukhei says in a dreamy tone, leaning his head in donghyuck’s personal space. donghyuck shoves him away. his heart is thumping a little too hard for his liking.

a few minutes pass by in relatively relaxed silence before a bus comes to a stop in front of them, with a loud squeak and a hiss of exhaust. yukhei climbs on first, donghyuck right behind him. they collapse together in a double seat with piles of shopping bags on their laps.

“you never actually told me where you’re from,” yukhei pipes up a minute or two into the ride. donghyuck looks over underneath the brim of his baseball cap and sees the elder on his phone, messaging someone.

“jeju,” donghyuck murmurs. the thrum of the bus engine is making him sleepy, and he hasn’t even eaten yet.

yukhei makes a thoughtful sound. “makes sense,” he nods. “you look like an islander. like… striking, i guess.”

he looks up then and smiles goofily at donghyuck, who is suddenly _very_ glad that he has his mask to hide behind.

  


🛣

  


yukhei thinks he may have put himself in a food coma.

it’s not his fault that haechan makes a mean wrap, though. they bought lettuce and some pre-grilled chicken, to which haechan added a few sesame seeds for garnish. yukhei wolfed down a good portion of them.

he wouldn’t have expected haechan to be able to cook or even prepare a simple dish, judging by how he’s made yukhei do practically everything so far and it’s only the second day of this trip. not that he’s one to talk; he’s never had much cooking prowess (kun, who made him meals to last through all of winter break this past year, can attest to that).

but haechan crafted his wraps with precision, feeding them to yukhei whenever he opened his mouth expectantly. it almost became second nature for him to just hand off a wrap the second yukhei was finished with one.

though yukhei now feels satiated because their “lunch” ended up happening closer to four than noon (they got a bit distracted looking through the wide array of spices one of the vendors had to offer, and may have had a few freshly made sausages that spoiled their appetites for awhile), he also can’t really move. or function in general.

haechan fell asleep in the backseat hours ago, sprawled on his stomach and swaddled in the blanket yukhei brought along (and hasn’t used once as of yet, since a certain spoiled brat’s been hogging it). he possesses a strange ability to pass out regardless of the circumstances. yukhei kind of envies him.

the reason they’re driving this late at night in the first place because jungwoo is letting him stay over for tonight and the next (and because yukhei and haechan got carried away with exploring the park). it’s only been a few days since he last saw his roommate, and he’s missed him like crazy.

talking to jungwoo via text is not the same as seeing him in person. for one, he uses his phone once every millennia, and talks in very cryptic text speak (that is even worse than mark lee’s emoji-laden tweets). and also, yukhei doesn’t think his thumbs can type fast enough to get out everything he wants to say.

there’s so much he needs to talk to him about already. seeing jeno again. having haechan along. the fact that the two completely different feelings he has towards these two completely different people are starting to converge.

that’s what sets jungwoo and jeno apart. jeno doesn’t really listen, hasn’t really _been_ listening for the four years that yukhei has known him. jungwoo, on the other hand, can see into yukhei’s thoughts, almost, and can tell what’s bothering him before he even needs to say it.

but he’ll still listen.

yukhei increases a little in speed, mostly by accident as his foot presses harder on the gas. he feels groggy, and the only thing that’s keeping him going right now is the thought of falling into a nice, warm bed. he only got a few hours of shut-eye last night, which isn’t anything unusual, but it’s been worse as of late.

he has the faint idea that he’s had insomnia since last may, around the time end of year high school exams were rolling around and his anxiety increased tenfold. his first year of uni didn’t help much, what with his job and piles of homework and working with limited english. he’s been reduced to little more than pure energy and stress, topped off with a forever-present smile that sometimes aches at the corners.

so normally, he’s good at staying up late. he’s pulled more caffeine-fuelled all-nighters than he can count on both hands. but for some reason, his stomach just _aches_ and his eyelids are heavy and he just wants to fucking _sleep,_ goddamnit.

his eyes slip shut at random intervals, each time longer than the last. he yawns loudly every five seconds. more often than not he’s spaced out somewhere just beyond the road. for the first hour, it’s not much of an issue.

until it is.

he hears haechan yell first, and sees the semi making a fucking u-turn right in front of him second. in a wild moment of terror and pure instinct, yukhei slams on the brakes and lurches them both forward.

the sickening screech of rubber against asphalt rings in his ears for several seconds. everything else is dulled, save the rapid pounding of yukhei’s heart.

there’s the sound of aggravated honking behind them. yukhei can barely put the car in drive. “pull _over,_ you dumbass!” haechan is shouting, and yukhei numbly reaches for the wheel and jerks it to the right.

the second he stops at the side of the road, he chokes back the bile and buries his face in his hands. he’s _not_ going to cry right now. he’s better than this.

“you’re so fucking stupid,” he hears haechan whimper, and he can’t stop the choked sob from fighting its way from his throat. “why didn’t you just say that you were tired, yukhei, i swear to god—”

“ _that’s_ what you’re mad about?” yukhei asks, incredulous. he turns around and looks at haechan, who’s sitting up stick-straight with the blanket pooling around his hips. his hair is unkempt and his eyes are wild, swimming in tears. “i almost killed us!”

“yeah, because you were too dumb to tell me you _too tired to fucking drive._ ” haechan wipes vigorously at the corners of his eyes with his sleeve. “we could have just sat down for a while longer.”

“i just—i wanted to make sure we were following the plan,” yukhei says weakly.

“the plan,” haechan deadpans. “the _plan?_ fuck the plan! we’re in this together, big guy. if you feel like you’re gonna pass out at the wheel, let me know and we’ll figure out where to go from there. don’t put our and anyone else’s lives at risk for the sake of sticking to some bullshit _plan_. i’m sure your friend will still let us in whether we show up at midnight or four in the damn morning.”

yukhei breathes in and out, feeling the stuttering of his chest with every inhale. “i’m sorry,” he murmurs, gnawing on his bottom lip. “ _god,_ i’m so fucking sorry, this is all my fault—”

”hey.” in the rearview mirror, he watches haechan extend a hand, like he’s about to pat him on the shoulder or something. he must think better of it, though, because the hand quickly drops. “shit happens,” he pipes up after a brief pause. “just… have some common sense from now on. please.”

with trembling fingers, yukhei turns on the radio. it’s some annoying rap shit that he used to hear all the time at the club, and _that_ certainly doesn’t make him feel any better, so he turns it off again. “gimme the aux cord,” haechan whispers, voice hoarse.

yukhei does so. “you better not play trash,” he jokes weakly. haechan rolls his eyes in a goodnatured fashion as he scrolls through his phone.

the song that filters through the speakers is by iu, yukhei knows that much. chenle has had a shrine dedicated to her above his desk for years. her soft, breathy vocals envelop the car, singing words of overwhelming love accompanied by an instrumental that’s fit for an animal crossing game.

but it’s calming, and yukhei needs that kind of shit right now. he closes his eyes, lets his chest rise and fall in a slow pattern. haechan sits up, swathed in the blanket with the seat belt buckled over him, and quietly sings along.

they merge back onto the highway at a snail’s pace. yukhei’s hands are still shaking, but he grips the wheel firmly and stares straight ahead, any traces of sleep long gone.

gyeongju is another hour away. they pass it without saying anything, just listening to the singers haechan likes crooning ballads through the speakers and the sounds of their own heavy breaths. yukhei tries to ease up, but it’s difficult. his gaze is fixed on the road, occasionally darting to surrounding cars. every inhale feels like it could be his last.

eventually the highway turns into regular streets, with traffic lights that allow yukhei to catch a few breathers. haechan reads the gps instructions aloud from the backseat as they get closer and closer to jungwoo’s house.

when they arrive, it’s almost two am. the moon reflects off of jungwoo’s navy blue hair when he opens the door to let them in. a dopey smile is already on his face. yukhei can’t help but smile back, despite the weight of his bag on one shoulder and haechan leaning against the other.

jungwoo pulls yukhei in for a brief hug, then takes a step back and examines the two of them in their disheveled, emotionally distraught states. “bed, now,” he orders, voice soft but firm, and they let him lead the way upstairs without complaint.

there’s a single guest bedroom with one neatly made twin bed inside. haechan, moving almost in a daze, collapses on it immediately, still fully clothed. yukhei shakes his head, trying to suppress the fondness creeping its way into a smile.

jungwoo brings up a sleeping bag and an extra pillow for yukhei to use. while he sets it up, yukhei rummages through his duffel bag and pulls out a pair of sweatpants. jungwoo doesn’t flinch while he changes right in front of him (they’ve had plenty of awkward walk-ins so this is really nothing), he just looks… concerned. and a little pissed off.

“you didn’t think it would be relevant to mention your little stowaway?” he murmurs, shooting a furtive glance at haechan. yukhei knows he won’t stir, the kid sleeps like the dead. “he’s high-profile, xuxi. police stations around the country are on high alert because of his disappearance. you could get _arrested_ for this.”

“it’s not like i _kidnapped_ him, woo,” yukhei hisses. “he ran away. i have no idea why, since he hasn’t told me hardly anything about him, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of person to frame someone.”

“but you can’t guarantee that,” jungwoo points out. yukhei hates that he’s right. “you’ve always been too nice for your own good.”

yukhei presses a hand to his forehead in mock distress. “ugh, i know right, i’m such an awful person,” he laments, with an added huff for dramatic effect.

jungwoo stifles a laugh into his palm and shoves at yukhei’s bare shoulder. “go to sleep, dumbass,” he giggles, being every bit the soft bitch he is. yukhei is both disgusted and endeared.

the door shuts quietly in jungwoo’s wake. yukhei finds himself padding over to haechan. he unties his sneakers with care and sets them down at the foot of the bed. he’s dead weight, but yukhei manages to lift him up and throw the comforter over him. he lets out an adorable sleepy groan, nestling further into the pillow. sleeping in jeans is definitely not the best feeling (yukhei speaks from experience, thanks to Drunk Yukhei), but they’re not really at the Strip Each Other Down But in a Helpful Way Because We’re Bros kind of level (he’s only gone that far with jaehyun, and that’s mostly because of sicheng’s chart).

yukhei turns off the light and stares at the sleeping bag in the dark for a moment. he’s not at all tired anymore thanks to the fiasco from earlier, and the floor looks in no way inviting, but he resolves to give it a shot.

the carpet is soft, but not soft enough to make laying here comfortable. yukhei’s body is too wide for this sleeping bag, so he curls up awkwardly on his side and shuts his eyes, listening to the creaking of the house’s siding and haechan’s nasally exhales.

in time, his eyelids grow heavy, and he succumbs to a fitful slumber.

  


🛣

  


donghyuck wakes up to an unfamiliar ceiling.

he stares at it for a moment. it’s a crisp, clean white, just like the sheets underneath him. the comforter is a velvety blue, and he doesn’t remember burrowing under it, but he doesn’t question it and stretches his legs—gross, he’s wearing stale jeans—

yukhei’s talked this guy up quite a bit. _“he’s the straw to my berry. the yin to my yang. the chip to my dip,”_ he’d mumbled, facedown in the park with a half-eaten wrap clutched in his hand (that spiel continued for quite a while). it’s obvious that yukhei thinks awfully highly of this “friend” of his, and donghyuck is a little nervous to officially meet him.

last night, their prerogative was getting some rest. donghyuck doesn’t even remember anything between pulling up to the house and waking up just now. five minutes go by before he actually gets out of bed—and then he notices the abandoned sleeping bag and pillow on the carpet by his feet.

guilt creeps its way into donghyuck’s heart. even though he had been pretty out of it himself, yukhei was the one who fucking _dozed off_ while _driving,_ so maybe resting in an actual bed on occasion would have been helpful.

but there’s nothing he can do about it now, he reasons as he brushes his teeth at the sink in the bathroom adjacent to the guest room they slept in. he can thank yukhei in a bit.

he trudges downstairs and hears voices from the kitchen, namely yukhei’s hushed one speaking in rapid english that he doesn’t fully understand (his name definitely pops up a few times, though). halfway down the stairs, he pauses and wonders how yukhei can speak so fluently in a different language.

he realizes, then, how little he really knows about yukhei. after his impromptu speech about _’being in this together,’_ it would make sense that now they should be making an effort to get closer, or whatever.

he’s never been the best at moving past that awkward acquaintances stage with someone. it was by pure luck that he and mark just _clicked._ their back and forth banter, no matter how hateful it can be sometimes, comes more naturally to donghyuck than most things in his life.

every conversation he’s had with yukhei follows a similar cadence. they tease each other relentlessly, with genuine irritation hidden layers deep beneath the jokes. and donghyuck’s not dumb; he knows that yukhei is actually a pretty nice guy. he sees it in the way that yukhei puts donghyuck, someone he just met two days ago, first before himself, and in the way that he hasn’t fucking dumped him on the side of the road when donghyuck has certainly given him plenty of reasons to do so.

so far, it’s been yukhei who’s left an impression on him, rather than the sights he’s seen since he left the confines of the company building. two days of this trip under his belt and the only things donghyuck recalls with perfect memory is the shape of yukhei’s smile, how he innately smells faintly of sweat and new shoes and other cliche teenage boy things but his clothes are infused with pine and vanilla and other pleasant scents donghyuck can’t put his finger on, and the way yukhei’s gigantic eyes disappear when he laughs at everything donghyuck says like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard in his life.

but underneath those smiles and the high-pitched cackles, is a boy who’s reserved, and easily aggravated, and tries to sleep at night but can’t. donghyuck tries not to notice, tries not to care, but he _does,_ he does care about this boy who was stupidly kind enough to let him into his car in the pouring rain and take him around with him, this boy who deserves more than the world gives him.

but apparently the world gave him plenty of muscles, because yukhei is sitting at the kitchen counter _shirtless,_ his back on full display, and wow, donghyuck is _not_ going to thank him now that this rudeness has been shoved in his face.

“i don’t appreciate being gossiped about,” he says innocently, to make his presence known. yukhei whips around. donghyuck bats his eyelashes at him—for show, of course.

yukhei rolls his eyes. “we weren’t _gossiping_ about you,” he says. “i’m merely catching woo up on what we’ve been doing.”

 _woo._ donghyuck’s stomach twists with something unpleasant that he doesn’t want to dwell on. “what, like almost getting us killed?” he snarks. he ignores the way yukhei’s (broad as hell) shoulders hunch and how his face droops for a moment and busies himself with looking through jungwoo’s fridge instead.

jungwoo doesn’t waste time with introductions. donghyuck admires that. “so you’re the one who’s got the whole of korea in mass panic,” he says in lieu of one, grinning at donghyuck with his chin propped up on his hand. his hair is mussed, face puffy and a cup of tea in the other hand. everything about this man is unbelievably soft.

no wonder yukhei is in love with him.

“mass panic? that’s a bit extreme,” donghyuck laughs. he grabs a container of strawberries and holds it close.

“there’s a hashtag for you that’s been trending since last night,” yukhei is saying, but donghyuck refuses to look at him. “mark started it.”

 _that_ catches donghyuck’s attention. “ _mark?_ ” he sputters incredulously. “ _my_ mark?”

yukhei and jungwoo share a glance. it looks like they’re having an entire conversation in just one look. “yeah, _your_ mark,” yukhei mumbles after awhile.

donghyuck hides a smile behind a strawberry. so mark _does_ care. that’s comforting. “what can i say? i guess the people love me,” he boasts.

jungwoo doesn’t look too impressed by that remark, but he merely watches donghyuck pensively, like he’s looking into donghyuck’s very soul. donghyuck stares right back, raising his eyebrows as if to challenge him.

“okay, who wants pancakes?” yukhei interjects, and the moment is gone just like that.

yukhei has this magical gift of lifting the tension in any conversation, which donghyuck is grateful for as he watches jungwoo scold the puppy trapped in a 6 foot boy’s body for pouring too much mix into the pan. he didn’t appreciate the mini staredown. what right does jungwoo, a complete stranger, have to judge him?

all the right in the world, apparently, donghyuck realizes as he opens up twitter on his phone and checks up on everyone. mark’s been silent since the first tweet he made about donghyuck’s disappearance, the one that sparked the hashtag jungwoo mentioned (it’s trending at number three right now). johnny and taeyong’s accounts are dedicated to updates on the ongoing police investigation. donghyuck’s heart sinks into his stomach.

he pushes aside the strawberries and digs his chin into the marble of the counter. _fuck._ that about sums everything up. why did he think this was a good idea? once they find out that he left just because he was whiny about wanting to interrupt their wedding plans to have fun, they’re going to hate him—if they don’t already.

he has a track record of fucking things up. like that one time he tried to kiss mark last summer and threw off their entire friendship forever. or when he “accidentally” tripped taeyong in the practice room a few years back when he was mad at the choreographer, which ended up in taeyong twisting his ankle and being out of commission for months. that in turn affected johnny, who had to support him and his then-boyfriend off of just one shitty company income.

his main issue is impulsivity. he acts on sudden instincts and ideas before they have a chance to develop into a well thought-out plan. eighteen years on this planet and he still hasn’t figured out to stop being a fuck-up—

“pancake?”

yukhei has that small, hesitant smile on his face, the one donghyuck saw him use on little kids at nambu market yesterday. his sulky frown deepens. i am _not_ a child, he thinks as he shakes his head in a decidedly childlike manner.

“you have to eat, sunshine.”

donghyuck doesn’t even have to look jungwoo’s way to know that the man’s ears probably perked up at the nickname. he’s starting to figure the guy out; he’s a certified gossip hog. “not here,” he whines, because he’s secretly a sucker for pet names, but it’s a _secret_ for a reason, duh.

“i apologize, your majesty,” yukhei mocks. his head lolls to the side, that half-grin, half-dazed look that donghyuck hates plastered on his face. his two front teeth stick out a bit from the rest of his smile, donghyuck notes. it’s ridiculously cute. “now open wide and let me feed you, if you can’t do it yourself.”

“i never said that i couldn’t,” donghyuck grouses, but opens his mouth nonetheless. yukhei does that dumb _here comes the airplane_ thing, engine sounds and all. donghyuck purses his lips and tries to keep his expression impassive.

yukhei is wildly waving the fork _right_ in front of donghyuck’s mouth, and donghyuck can feel some inner cat instincts within him itching to follow it with his nose. “let me _eat it,_ ” he moans, bursting into fake tears. yukhei cracks up; donghyuck tries to intercept the fork while his guard is down.

the fork is out of his reach now, held high above him. damn wong yukhei and his dumb yeti limbs. “smile and i’ll consider it,” he teases.

“looks like i’m starving today, then.”

“as much as i’m _loving_ this little exchange, the food’s gonna get cold, and i slaved over that hot stove for _hours,_ ” jungwoo jokes. everything about his demeanor is slimy, yet pure, from his cheesy smile to his drawling tone. donghyuck hates it.

yukhei sets the fork and plate down in front of donghyuck (who totally isn’t disappointed that he wasn’t fed, no way, nuh uh). his shoulders are still shaking in laughter. “after you eat i’d recommend a shower, dude,” he tells donghyuck. “you reek.”

it’s hurting donghyuck’s mouth to glower this much.

jungwoo’s buries his annoyingly adorable giggles into his sleeve. yukhei has that stupid self-satisfied leer again. donghyuck clenches the fork in his fist and shovels pancakes down his throat.

he knows what he’s feeling now, as he watches jungwoo and yukhei converse across the counter from him. jealousy.

jealousy at the fact that yukhei gets to see one of _his_ friends and donghyuck doesn’t. yes. that’s it.

he seeks solace in the shower, seething to himself underneath the scalding water. mark’s face keeps appearing in his head, and fuck, he wants him here right now.

but what if mark thinks his disappearance is his fault? for pushing donghyuck away the other day? what if when donghyuck gets back he’s over it and has accepted that they’re not friends anymore?

donghyuck’s not one for crying in the shower. that’s a little too pathetic for his liking. he is willing, however, to shed a few tears later when he’s towelling off in the guest room.

he thinks of last night, the first time in a long time that he couldn’t conceal his tears from someone. at first he was angry at yukhei for being so careless, but seeing the sincerity of his fear, and how apologetic he was, made donghyuck feel guilty for even considering that he could’ve done such a thing on purpose.

he’s always been this way, judging people he doesn’t know based off of nothing but assumptions. it’s a nasty habit that he’s tried hard to grow out of, because he’s sure that if he gave more people a chance then he would have more than three friends that he can go to and trust with things. he has this reputation in the industry for being out of touch, so open yet so mysterious at the same time. johnny insists that it’s part of his charm, but donghyuck can’t help but regret acting the way he does sometimes.

his fingers are pruned when he shuts off the water. he’d passed two whole hours in the shower, and takes twenty more minutes with the sink running as he goes through his skincare routine. jungwoo’s water bill will be off the charts this month, but donghyuck doesn’t feel too bad about it.

the rest of the day passes by lazily. donghyuck sits in the corner of jungwoo’s living room, trying to act like he’s not paying attention to how yukhei and jungwoo lean into each other on the couch opposite him. they’re side by side and are in the middle of a heated mario kart match.

he occasionally pitches into the conversation, but stays on his phone for most of the time ( _“he calls it a ’burner phone,’ like he’s a drug dealer or something,”_ yukhei tells jungwoo, and they snicker at donghyuck as if he isn’t sitting _right here_ ), earbuds in.

donghyuck is a clingy bitch, okay. he’ll admit it with his whole chest. and today, when he’s feeling particularly needy and insecure, of course the one person he has at his disposal for affection is out of reach—and is the very reason for most of these feelings in the first place.

being a solo artist has its downsides sometimes. he’ll see his labelmates with their giant groups and can’t help but be jealous of their bonds. donghyuck gets too deep into his thoughts sometimes, and there isn’t someone around all the time to pull him out. he yields to the negative too much, always has and always will.

johnny tries his best, he really does. donghyuck’s known him since he was thirteen, when johnny, at twenty-three, became his manager. they’ve learned a lot together. no one as young as donghyuck had ever debuted before, so he set a lot of precedents for younger idols. he’s been forced to grow and shape up quickly, whether it be fixing his bratty act because it was getting stale or losing a few pounds because the lingering baby fat wasn’t acceptable the older he got. johnny’s been there every step of the way, and he’s always ready to give an encouraging pep talk, or cuddle donghyuck to sleep if he needs it.

taeyong fit in naturally to their little family once he and johnny started dating (donghyuck and mark played matchmaker after several painful months of watching the two skirt around each other). he understands that dating johnny is a package deal; donghyuck comes along with the relationship. taeyong is tough in the studio but drops the act as soon as practice ends, massaging donghyuck’s aching joints and pressing kisses to his sweaty hair.

it registers, then, how much donghyuck misses them. he’s scrolling through his old phone’s gallery and comes across a photo of him sandwiched between johnny and taeyong on a couch in the couple’s apartment. a wry smile finds its way to his lips.

“hey, what do you want for dinner?” jungwoo is asking. he’s kneeling in front of donghyuck and grinning like the cheshire cat. donghyuck looks up and then back down at his screen. it’s already almost six.

he shrugs, plucking out his earbuds. “whatever’s fine.”

“i vote rice cake soup!” yukhei yells at the ceiling. he’s sprawled out on the couch now, hands clasped on his (unfortunately clothed) stomach. “i can actually make that!”

“sounds good to me,” donghyuck says. “i can make it, too.”

“then you guys won’t mind if i grab a quick shower?” jungwoo asks them. “all the ingredients should be in the kitchen.”

“we’ve got this, hyung!” yukhei cries. he sits up too enthusiastically and smacks himself in the head trying to salute. donghyuck snickers.

jungwoo has a glint in his eye that makes donghyuck uneasy. “okay!” he chirps, standing up. “i’ll be upstairs if you set something on fire.”

yukhei frowns. “hey, i’ve only done that once,” he mutters.

donghyuck pushes himself up. his phone, still on with the picture pulled up, lays on the floor forgotten. “i’ve done it once before too, don’t sweat it,” he says, patting yukhei’s shoulder as he strolls over to the kitchen.

yukhei’s idea of _cooking,_ apparently, is _looming over donghyuck’s shoulder constantly and popping pieces of the ingredients into his mouth when he thinks donghyuck’s not looking._ it’s cute, though, so donghyuck lets him get away with it, and makes him cut up vegetables so he at least has something to do.

“your hair’s so long,” donghyuck remarks a half hour or so in. he’s leaning against the counter, waiting for the soup to boil while yukhei carefully chops spring onions into neat chunks.

by most standards, yukhei’s hair isn’t _that_ long—donghyuck has seen johnny’s high school photos, and there’s no competing with that—but it’s shaggy enough that it hangs in his eyes and causes him to flip his head back every five seconds. still, he laughs. “you sound like my mom,” he replies, concentrating on a particularly tough onion. “she says i look like a hippie.”

“i think it looks fine,” donghyuck says, and reaches over to push it back for him. it’s soft to the touch. yukhei’s eyes flick up to him, a small smile on his face that makes donghyuck’s insides churn. his hair is a lot more than _fine._ “just a bit inconvenient.”

“my hair grows _suuuuper_ fast,” yukhei says. “my mom used to give me buzz cuts but it would be in my eyes again half a month later.”

“i need to see those photos,” donghyuck chuckles. he cards his fingers through yukhei’s hair once more; he might be imagining it, but he thinks he sees yukhei close his eyes and lean into the touch for a moment.

he turns to the stove before yukhei responds, cheeks aflame. he hasn’t even confirmed if jungwoo is yukhei’s boyfriend or not; he can’t go around stroking the hair of a potentially taken boy.

then again, he really shouldn’t be stroking the hair of someone he just met three days ago, but the touch-starved part of him jumped out. he can feel yukhei’s eyes on him as he pours ingredients into the pot, stirring the orange-colored liquid around with a wooden spoon. he’s probably confused.

well joke’s on him, because donghyuck has no idea what he’s doing either.

  


🛣

  


it’s the day before haechan’s birthday, and yukhei is wondering if it’s weird to do something for him.

 _“i mean, it wouldn’t be completely out of the ordinary,”_ jungwoo had said when yukhei came to him yesterday morning with this very dilemma. _“he won’t be spending it with anyone else, i’m assuming?”_ and shit, that made yukhei feel bad, even though haechan being on this trip was completely unprecedented.

jungwoo’s thankfully taken this whole thing in stride, because he’s chill like that. yukhei’s just glad his roommate’s parents are off on vacation, because from what he’s heard, they’re assholes anyways.

he knows that haechan doesn’t care much for jungwoo. it’s hard not to notice, what with all the glowering and being more petulant than usual. he just never thought it would be possible for someone to actively dislike his roommate, who is literally made out of sunshine and rainbows, but then again, haechan has a habit of proving him wrong.

dinner last night had been a strained affair. yukhei sat closer to jungwoo again, joking around with him as always, while haechan picked vehemently at his plate, scowling all the while. it was a complete 180 from the blushing, all-smiles haechan who was blatantly flirting with him minutes before (yukhei still can’t wrap his mind around _that_ particular encounter).

though he may look timid, jungwoo is honestly one of the most brazen people yukhei’s ever met. he isn’t afraid to look someone in the eyes and speak his mind until they back down. and haechan is the same way. yukhei knows that he didn’t appreciate the judgement jungwoo was so obviously throwing his way, and his bruised ego is what activated the _Little Snippy Brat_ switch in his brain.

but it never occurred to him that haechan also disliked jungwoo because of _this._

“jungwoo isn’t, like, your boyfriend, right?” he asks out of the blue, staring down at his twiddling thumbs.

“ _that’s_ what you’ve been waiting an hour and a half to ask?” yukhei exclaims, a little high-strung because he sat in complete silence while haechan had an inner struggle about asking _that._ _that question,_ of all things.

haechan doesn’t answer. yukhei huffs. “no, he isn’t. jungwoo-hyung is my platonic life partner, and my roommate during school.” no response. “you wouldn’t have a problem with it if we were, right?”

that gets him. “of—of course not!” haechan sputters, going red in the face. “i’m—”

“you’re…?” yukhei prompts, sparing him an inquisitive glance.

haechan turns to face the window. “you know,” he mumbles.

a grin creeps onto yukhei’s face. “no, i really don’t, sunshine,” he drawls.

“i’m into guys, okay? just guys,” haechan confesses into his hands. “i’m not supposed to—to talk about it, or anything. it’s a touchy subject in my world.”

“hey, it’s an issue outside of Rich and Famous Land too,” yukhei protests. haechan lifts his head to glare at him. “it is! months went by before i was able to accept that dudes were pretty hot, too, and even longer to tell the people in my life about it.”

haechan laughs humorlessly. “months? try years. try knowing who you are for fucking forever and being forced to hide it from the world because it _’doesn’t sell.’_ ”

he has this remarkable ability to make himself appear even smaller. yukhei watches him shrink into himself, starting to close himself off.

“you sacrificed a lot for fame,” is all he can say, because he’s starting to get it now.

“not for _fame,_ ” haechan scoffs. “music, dancing, _performing_ is the only thing i’m good at, the only thing that’s worth doing. without it, my life would mean fuck all.”

oh. “oh,” yukhei says. “i get that. we all need to do stuff that makes all of this worthwhile.”

haechan nods sagely. “yeah. my friends help out a lot too. i’m starting to miss everyone. i bet mark’s been moping at home without me, that loser.”

yukhei’s brow furrows. “you mean—you don’t know?” he asks tentatively, gauging haechan’s reaction in his peripheral.

“know… what?” haechan watches him with narrowed eyes.

oh god. yukhei didn’t want to be the one to break the news. but he can’t back out now, because haechan will never let this go.

and goddamnit, he looks so endearing with his lip jutted out and—were his eyes always so wide and adorable? yukhei finds himself reaching for his phone to pull up the photos. the car swerves. “woah, don’t kill us,” haechan warns, reaching for the wheel.

yukhei rolls his eyes. “oh relax, would you, this’ll take like two seconds—”

“it’s been half a minute, yukhei, look back at the road—”

“i have expert peripheral vision, okay, i think i know how to drive straight down an empty street—”

“you walked into a bush this morning when you looked up to watch the clouds.”

“they were pretty! and woo-hyung said one of them looked like a puppy!”

“oh my _god,_ i’m traveling with a child—”

“here!” yukhei exclaims, tossing the phone into haechan’s lap. “and ha, i was only halfway in the grass.”

haechan softly punches his shoulder. “don’t think i’ll let this go, you—”

there’s silence. “me… what?” yukhei asks. “come on, don’t leave me hanging sunshine—”

“do you ever shut up?” haechan snaps.

yukhei glances over and sees The Photo, the one with mark’s lips attached to the underside of some unidentified boy’s ear. haechan is staring at it, his entire face crumpled. “take this back,” he mutters, “before i throw it out the fucking window.”

“woah, sorry, but you don’t have to take it out on the X,” yukhei says, prying his precious iphone from haechan’s vice-like grip. “listen, maybe he just—lost control? like… he was out of his mind with worry or something and got super wasted and the guy was just—there?”

“i don’t want to talk about it,” haechan mutters. he starts drumming his shaky fingers on his thighs, one of which is bouncing up and down.

yukhei just—looks at him. watches him worry his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to keep his expression impassive. but there’s a wildfire in his eyes.

“you don’t even sound convinced,” haechan whines. he starts drumming his fingers on his thighs, body shaking with angry energy. “oh god, this is it, he hates me, this is just his way of lashing out at me—”

yukhei makes a sound in the back of his throat. he doesn’t know exactly what he’s trying to convey with it. “hey, it’s probably not that b—oh no, you’re crying.”

“thanks for pointing out the obvious,” haechan sniffles. he wipes at his eyes hastily. “fuck, i’m so pathetic.”

the tears keep spilling down his cheeks, and he keeps brushing them away. “hey, hey hey hey,” yukhei coaxes, grasping haechan’s thin wrist and guiding it away from his face. “let yourself cry, dude. it’s okay to not be good.”

haechan lets out another broken sob. “you’re being so nice but you’re calling me dude and quoting a stupid meme and i don’t know if i want to hug you or slap you, you fucking dork.”

“that’s it, tell me how dumb i am,” yukhei says, squeezing haechan’s hand.

“you’re _so_ dumb.” haechan is half-crying, half-laughing, clutching yukhei’s hand like a lifeline. “like how, where did your brain cells go? why are you all happy-go-lucky all the fucking time? you look for clouds that look like puppies? you’re over 6 feet tall and act like an adorable toddler? who gave you the right?”

“now tell me i’m ugly,” yukhei whispers dramatically into haechan’s ear; he squirms and it sounds like the breath’s been taken from his lungs when he giggles. “come on, you know you want to.”

“i’m _disgusted,_ ” haechan begins, trying and failing to keep his composure. “i’ve seen you walk into a bush. i’ve watched you talk through a mouthful of chicken wrap. i’ve caught you picking your nose when you think i’m not looking.” that one actually catches yukhei off guard, and haechan breaks into snotty snorts at his double take. “but despite all of that, you’re still so… _attractive._ it’s gross. i’ve considered filing a complaint but there’s no one to complain to.”

yukhei thinks he might be blushing. he presses a hand to his cheek. yup, definitely blushing. “do woo-hyung’s parents have a liquor cabinet i didn’t know about?” he inquires, grinning unabashedly at a flushed haechan. “because i think you got into it.”

“shh, i’m trying to be mean to you,” haechan slurs, covering yukhei’s mouth with his clammy hand.

“you’re not doing a very convincing job,” yukhei points out, and that earns him a slap on the arm. “i stand corrected.”

haechan is full-on ugly crying at this point. he leans back against the seat, slack-jawed and chest heaving—with silent sobs or laughter, yukhei isn’t sure. “this isn’t even that funny,” he wheezes. laughter it is.

“yeah, it’s really not,” yukhei admits. but it made haechan smile, and that’s what counts. some weird instinct in him makes him reach out and pat his thigh. it looks ridiculously small underneath his palm.

he tries to draw his hand away, but haechan grabs it and holds it loosely in his own, thumb tracing small circles along yukhei’s knuckle. the _thank you_ goes unsaid, but in that gesture, it’s there.

it’s no good to sit in silence, though. “hey, open the glove box for me,” yukhei says. “there should be a cd holder in there.”

haechan does as told. “just tell me which one you want. i’m not letting you take your eyes off the road.”

“control freak much?” yukhei teases. “it should be the blank cd with _mj_ written on it.”

haechan’s puffy, red-rimmed eyes glimmer with curiosity as he inserts said cd. “mj as in….?”

the telltale beat of _billie jean_ fades in; you can’t not kick off a mix cd with one of the classics. “i think you know,” yukhei says, and haechan’s smile grows into a beam.

they spend half an hour screaming along to the lyrics, windows rolled down and volume to the max. haechan knows the rhythms and melodies well, but fumbles on the lyrics, whereas yukhei sings them confidently, but horribly off-key.

haechan’s voice is beautiful. that’s kind of a given, since he’s a famous singer and all, but it still takes yukhei by surprise. his voice is higher in range, yet it’s powerful, so much so that his neck veins protrude when he hits a particularly shrill note. it’s clear that he’s taken great care in working to produce such sounds.

so while belting out the lyrics is fun, yukhei tones it down a little in favor of listening to haechan. he doesn’t seem to realize the drastic drop in volume, just croons along the best he can with a smile on his face, tear tracks drying off with the wind.

he never lets go of yukhei’s hand, and the warmth of it is admittedly comforting. their fingers aren’t entwined or anything, but yukhei kind of wants to be the one to bridge that gap. he doesn’t, though, because he’s clearly still in a fragile emotional state and yukhei doesn’t want to look like he’s taking advantage of that.

but seeing haechan smile through his tears and knowing that _he_ was the one to bring that smile to his face makes him feel like he’s soaring. he’s always taken on the role of being the designated moodmaker in any friend group he’s been in, and he always loves making people smile, but there’s something about haechan in particular that makes the success even sweeter.

yukhei’s in the middle of jamming to _rock with you_ (it’s his favorite, alright, he has to go hard) when haechan turns the music down. “i’ve been meaning to ask,” he starts, “how can you speak english so fluently?”

“oh.” yukhei blinks. it hadn’t come to his attention that he’d never mentioned it before. “i go to university in california. i’ve been studying english in some capacity since elementary school, but i definitely had to up the ante before i left.”

haechan nods. “i’m not the best at english, if you couldn’t tell,” he admits, rueful. “and i’m probably never going to college, either. what’s it like?”

that question brings about so many things he suddenly wants haechan to know. so yukhei starts talking. and talking. he tells haechan about sicheng, and how he’s hopelessly pining after his roommate even though jaehyun is a walking disaster. he complains about how whipped jungwoo is for Doyoung From Next Door. he brings up kun and his phenomenal cooking, and that zumba class instructor slash TA that’s had kun head over heels for the past few years. once he starts talking, he finds it hard to stop.

but haechan doesn’t complain, not even once. he laughs at all the dumb anecdotes, and empathizes with yukhei’s frustration towards his oblivious friends. and he has stories of his own to share; most of them detailing johnny and taeyong, his manager and choreographer, but it sounds like they’re a second set of parents. it’s obvious that mark plays a big role in his life too, but he steers clear of him altogether.

yukhei acts similarly. haechan asks about his childhood and growing up and he rambles about hong kong, the high-rise apartments and the bed he shared with his mom for a while when things were particularly tough on them. he talks about the transition from kowloon to korea after his mom’s job relocated them, and how he had to quickly adapt to the language. chenle and jisung wheedle their way into the conversation and he tells haechan how proud he is of them, how much they’ve already grown in the span of four years.

and if he leaves jeno out, it’s nobody’s business.

they stop in ulsan, parked near the entrance of a bamboo grove (haechan found it online and said it looked cool, so here they are). they left jungwoo around one after a lazy morning and delicious breakfast (haechan made some fantastic crêpes), and with the long route yukhei had taken (plus traffic and a few bathroom breaks), it’s almost three when they arrive. it’s the sunniest it’s been in the last few days, amidst the torrential rain. nevertheless, haechan’s still donning his hoodie and facemask, sunglasses on for good measure.

“you’re going to get heatstroke,” yukhei warns as they’re entering the towering forest of bamboo. haechan shrugs and takes the lead.

this boy is going to be the death of him, but yukhei isn’t really complaining.

“y’know, i didn’t peg you as the type to listen to good music,” haechan pipes up when they’re strolling along the dirt path, hand in hand (neither of them really felt like letting go). his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, capris bunched up so his bruised knees are on display. yukhei convinced him to at least take his hat off, so the sun is baking down on the younger’s gingery hair, his head shining like a beacon.

yukhei wants to make a joke, but nothing comes to mind. haechan is swinging their conjoined hands back and forth, and it’s unexpectedly distracting. “what did you think i listened to?” he asks instead.

“trap, mostly,” haechan replies. “basic american pop shit, like the chainsmokers or something.”

“i’m surprised you would consider me to be so tasteless,” yukhei gasps. he sees the tight-fitting fabric of haechan’s mask bunch up when he smiles. “if anything, you look like the one to be into top 40 hits from, like, the 2000s.”

“and you’d be correct,” he says, smiling at yukhei sweetly. “avril lavigne still goes hard.”

he absolutely butchers that name with his poor pronunciation, and yukhei cracks up involuntarily because of it. “shut up, smarty pants,” haechan whines. he squeezes yukhei’s hand to the point of cutting off circulation, then lets go and speedwalks away. “jerk!” he yells over his shoulder.

“you get an a for effort!” yukhei crows, still keeled over in laughter. “aw, come on, was it something i said?”

but haechan doesn’t look back right away, his outline a shimmering mirage in this beautiful, picturesque grove. when he does turn, though, that fond smile on his face yukhei has come to realize is reserved for few and far between, lips pink, eyebrows quirked in amusement, and hand outstretched, yukhei’s laughter putters out, until there’s nothing left but a wonderstruck grin.

maybe it’s easier than he thought it was, he thinks as he takes haechan’s smaller, warmer palm into his own and lets himself be pulled through this paradise. to _live_.

  


🛣

  



	2. Chapter 2

the scent of salty air hits donghyuck’s nostrils before he even opens his eyes.

“if we’re where i think we are, i might have to hug you.”

“oh no, physical affection! i’m shaking in my boots.”

“shut _up._ we’re at the beach, aren’t we?”

“open your eyes and find out.”

right outside the windshield is the beach, golden and everything he’s dreamed of seeing for months. the line of blue on the horizon is hazy, like a mirage, but it’s there and _real_ and he can’t believe he’s actually here.

to his left is yukhei, sporting a breathtaking smile. “happy birthday, haechan.”

donghyuck is propelling himself into yukhei’s solid chest without a second thought. the gear shift digs into his stomach, and yukhei’s slow to wrap an arm around his waist, but it’s oddly pleasant in a way. something about the earthy smell of yukhei’s jean jacket and the way his hand grips onto the back of donghyuck’s white button-up makes his head swim.

“donghyuck,” he murmurs into yukhei’s hair. “call me donghyuck.”

“told you i’d find out one day,” yukhei says, chest rumbling against donghyuck’s own, and when he pulls away, there’s an inexplicable feeling stirring in his heart.

he almost forgoes his facemask in his rush to get out. yukhei flings it at him before he barrels onto the beach, kicking up sand as he goes. for a wednesday morning, it’s decently crowded, and donghyuck loves the anonymity of it all. it’s been such a long time since he was in the middle of a public place and hadn’t been mobbed.

yukhei catches up to him, a beach towel thrown over his shoulder and a bag of supplies in hand. “you’re putting on sunscreen,” he orders when donghyuck gives him a sour look. “no ifs, ands, or buts.”

there are plenty of umbrellas set up, but they both want to tan, so they set up underneath the blistering sun. donghyuck gets the towel, after a heated match of rock paper scissors, and yukhei settles in the sand beside him, grumbling all the while. he’s stripped down to his swim trunks; girls nearby are staring. donghyuck smirks to himself while he helps spread some sunscreen on yukhei’s broad back.

they’re quiet for a bit after that. donghyuck closes his eyes, curling his toes in the sand. he used to go to the beach all the time, since the whole of jeju is practically a beach itself. the heat ingrains itself in his skin, finding a home in his bones and making him feel giddy. out of all the birthday celebrations he’s had these past few years, this tops them all.

perhaps it’s the simplicity of this; of the sounds of children’s laughter, the crashing of the waves along the shore. the taste and smell of salt and a fresh breeze on his tongue. the sight of a robin’s egg blue sky above him, cotton candy clouds floating by only adding to the picturesque scenery.

but more likely it’s the feeling of yukhei’s shoulder brushing up against his own, their fingers twining shyly. he’s held yukhei’s hand before, but never like _this,_ with fingers laced and his stomach in knots. it feels intimate, and strange, but at the same time incredibly familiar.

donghyuck’s heart is falling hard, and a little too fast, and his brain has no time to catch up.

there’s sand in the crevices of their fingers. yukhei keeps squeezing his hand and making donghyuck cringe and he’s _laughing_ at him, the jerk. “don’t make me throw sand at you,” donghyuck says without moving, trying to look like he isn’t perturbed.

“you wouldn’t,” yukhei taunts and oh, _now_ he’s asking for it.

calmly, not even opening his eyes, donghyuck sinks his free hand into the sand beside him, grabs a good chunk of it, and lets it fall where he knows yukhei is. the muffled curse and wheeze that follows suggests that it made contact with his target.

he squints, head turned to the side, to see yukhei furiously wiping sand off of his chest ( _washboard abs,_ his brain _oh-so-helpfully_ supplies). he glares at donghyuck, which isn’t very effective since there’s sand in his hair and a sparkle of mirth in his eyes and fuck, is he being lifted off the ground?

“yukhei, my mask,” he says in a warning tone. his hands wrap around yukhei’s neck on instinct. “yukhei, _my clothes_ —”

the last thing donghyuck hears is yukhei chuckling—“chillax, sunshine, you’ll dry”—before he’s being thrown into the water.

every second that passes is utter torture. donghyuck kicks wildly, his button up wearing him down, the salt water filling his lungs. _fuck wong yukhei,_ he thinks, over and over again. _fuck._

when donghyuck springs back up, drenched and freezing cold, yukhei is halfway towards him, worry etched into his features. “okay, i may have overestimated how light you would be,” he starts, and doesn’t get to finish, because donghyuck wades over and tackles him.

it’s another hour later when they crawl out of the ocean, legs numb and prickling and fingers hardly discernible from prunes. donghyuck’s knees buckle and he faceplants the towel, burrowing into its warmth. yukhei falls on top of him, and donghyuck is definitely _not_ a towel.

“can’t—breathe—too—fat,” he wheezes, and he gets a smack on the arm just for stating facts.

yukhei just nuzzles in closer, like he didn’t just physically abuse donghyuck or anything. his nose is in donghyuck’s frazzled hair. it’s adding more gross to how much gross donghyuck is already feeling. “i’m wet and i don’t want sand to get stuck to me,” he gripes. “and i’m kinda high off the radiation.”

for someone who looks all dashing and manly or whatever, yukhei sure is a wuss. during their ocean romp, a piece of seaweed found its way into his toes and he screamed at the top of his lungs until donghyuck lifted his leg out of the water and discarded it.

so when donghyuck pinches his side particularly hard, he squeals and tumbles onto the ground. “serves you right for suffocating me,” he retorts, voice dripping with saccharine.

yukhei grumbles something into the sand and doesn’t make an attempt to lay on him again.

they bask in the rays for who knows how long. donghyuck feels the delirium—or the _high,_ as yukhei had called it—start to settle in after the first 30 minutes or so. he’s in an odd limbo between being asleep and awake, eyelids heavy.

then a clap of thunder echoes in the distance, and the beach is filled with the sound of grumbling as people begin to pack their things. donghyuck gets up, wiping sand from his clothes, and sees yukhei watching him. “why are you staring?” he asks, a little defensively.

yukhei reddens. “your cheeks are pink. from the sun,” he mutters. “looks cute.”

the trek back to the car is rushed, as rain begins to fall and they sprint to shelter. the interior is burning hot but donghyuck tries to change in the back seat, awkwardly smushed between the two doors as he melts his fucking skin against the leather trying to slide his legs into some skinny jeans. yukhei just sits in the driver’s seat in his tank top and swim trunks, laughing at his misfortune.

“that was only the first part of your birthday extravaganza, donghyuck,” he announces when donghyuck is finally dressed and has slight leather burn on the backs of his thighs. he says the name loudly, like he’s still testing it out on his tongue. donghyuck kind of likes the way it sounds coming from his lips.

“hopefully none of it is set to be outside,” donghyuck says, gesturing to the window and the downpour that is getting steadily more intense. he can’t keep his flippant smile at bay, though. the fact that yukhei is doing this for him, when he in no way has to, is just so undeniably _yukhei_ that donghyuck wants to grin until he can’t feel his mouth.

yukhei just winks at him, eyes sparkling, and they’re off.

their next stop is a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint in the heart of busan. donghyuck wolfs down his share of the delicious medium pepperoni pizza they buy like he hasn’t eaten in months, because holy shit is it delicious.

if taeyong could see him now, he’d keel over. he’s the health nut in donghyuck’s secondary family, so he likes to get him and johnny on whatever new diet that’s going viral. donghyuck once survived on nothing but cold pressed juices for an entire month.

his birthday and holidays are the only times he’s usually allowed to pig out. johnny sneaks him candy bars and other sweets on occasion, but any big meal he eats must be followed up by vigorous exercise. he doesn’t want to end up all muscular like yukhei, but he does prefer to look lean, with only minimal pudge to his cheeks.

“ugh, i can feel the grease clogging up my pores,” he complains around a mouthful. yukhei just rolls his eyes, already halfway through his fourth slice.

donghyuck’s skin is supple and smooth, thanks to years of steady skin routines and strict dieting. eating too much fatty foods makes him break out, but he can’t find it in himself to care much as he finishes off his second slice. it tastes too damn good to stop.

as a child, he hated dieting. he’s lost count of the amount of times he’s been caught with chocolate in his bedroom, or pigging out in the kitchen past curfew. they used to let him off the hook, because he was young and malnourished enough before even moving to seoul, but in the year or so leading up to his debut, his meals were light, the exercise heavy. he started to look in the mirror and feel distaste with his appearance, with his stocky legs and pudgy arms. dieting became a necessity then, something he couldn’t imagine living without.

mark, surprisingly, never obeys his diets—but not by overeating. he undereats, so much so that his ribs are visible beneath his clothes and his face always looks kind of gaunt and sunken in. trainers, doctors, managers, and donghyuck himself have tried to get him back on track, but he simply _forgets,_ gets too caught up in work to bother to take a break. he hopes mark’s been eating well without him, even if he’s a slimy jerk who doesn’t bother to tell donghyuck things.

because he knows mark, knows the way he operates; even though he’s a touchy drunk, it’s in his nature to be withdrawn, and awkward, stiff-limbed and tongue-tied. he doesn’t approach strangers, would never even dream about attacking some random guy’s neck.

which means that the mystery boy in those photos isn’t random at all.

it’s not like mark can’t be gay, or whatever he is. donghyuck always assumed he was holding himself back, sort of in the hopes that perhaps deep, deep down, mark harbored something for _him_ in his heart.

the photos are still imprinted in his brain and on the backs of his eyelids when he closes them, even as he sits here with yukhei and tries to forget. he knows how this news would go over with him a mere week ago: a haze of red and ugliness and broken hearts, a broken friendship. but hearing it now, all he sees is gray. his mind is a perfectly blank slate.

for years it had always been one way: _markanddonghyuck,_ _donghyuckandmark._ you wouldn’t see one without the other. wherever donghyuck went, mark would be dragged along with him, and wherever mark went, donghyuck would willingly follow. mark’s the flighty one, the unsure one, the one who donghyuck has to reassure— _yeah, that’s okay._ mark’s the one who laughs too loud and loves too little, even though he tries to make amends. donghyuck knew all of that, but he’d chosen to fall anyway.

and after years of loving mark in painful, longing silence, yukhei is the one to set everything askew.

their budding friendship is different from donghyuck’s and mark’s. they don’t pull each other around or trail after one another; they go wherever they go together. yukhei’s the confident one, yet he’s the unsure one at the same time, the one that donghyuck helps out and receives help from in return. yukhei’s the one who laughs too loud and loves even louder, and is unapologetic about doing so.

and donghyuck’s trying ignore it, but he’s involuntarily falling anyway.

the next few hours blend together in flashing arcade lights and ddr competitions, in bolder touches and lingering stares. donghyuck skips down alleyways in the rain, yukhei’s hand clutched tightly in his, until the arrow on his phone’s gps comes to a stop at a club—one marked subtly as a space for very _Particular People_ by the multicolored lights out front.

yukhei’s giggling uncontrollably when donghyuck pulls him in by the arm, and he doesn’t stop giggling until he’s downing several shots in a row at the bar, whooping wildly after each one. donghyuck slides his sunglasses into the collar of his shirt, hoodie wrapped around his waist, and stuffs his facemask in his pocket. he bobs his head to the music and steals one of the shots yukhei has lined up.

the taste of alcohol makes him cringe at first, so he pinches his nose the second time. yukhei disappears amidst the flashing lights and bodies flailing to bass-boosted edm with a shout of _“bathroom!”_ , but the flow of drinks don’t stop coming. and donghyuck accepts them all, until his head is swimming and his vision is blurry at the corners and the idea of thanking the person buying these for him sounds like a good one.

johnny, in true cool dad fashion, has snuck him sips of wine or soju whenever they go out in celebration of some music-related win, so the flavor isn’t all that foreign—but the effects certainly are. donghyuck sways from side to side, gripping the edge of the bar for balance and holding a shot glass between his lips as he knocks his head back, downing it all in one go. he’s getting the hang of this.

a sudden weight presses against his back, warm to the point of scalding, and donghyuck leans into it. “you just missed the _best_ trick,” he garbles, slamming the empty glass onto the bar. “i’m—”

the beginnings of self-praise die in his throat when he feels _teeth_ digging into his earlobe, nipping and suckling while a hand firmly grips his waist. donghyuck gasps, head dipping back—and the greasy scent of hair gel his nostrils pick up decidedly _isn’t_ yukhei’s.

this is further affirmed when the body is yanked away from donghyuck, and yukhei is there, melding into his side. “i’m not the jealous type,” he says, shining with sweat and panting and looking every bit the man of 14-year-old donghyuck’s wet dreams (and perhaps his current ones), “but i thought i’d make an exception.”

donghyuck makes a face and wipes at his ear. “gross,” he complains, glaring at his hand like it’s touched something atrocious.

“it didn’t seem like you minded,” yukhei points out, though he doesn’t look too happy to say so.

“well—” donghyuck bites back responding with _because i thought it was you_ (no matter how true it may be) before he gets it all out—“why’d you put a stop to it, then?”

yukhei lifts a brow. “i told you, i made an exception.”

his stupid smirk makes donghyuck’s alcohol-infused brain melt into a pile of slush. it also grips him with the urge to give yukhei a taste of his own medicine. “hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you don’t own me,” he says sweetly, booping a speechless yukhei’s nose with his index finger and sloppily moonwalking to the dance floor.

if there’s one thing donghyuck can manage to do right on his first night out, it’s dance. he attunes every movement to the beat with precision, letting himself get swept up in the swarm of people. his mind blanks until all he hears, all he _feels_ is the music, as shitty as it is. it reminds him of practices with taeyong, days of aches settling somewhere deep in his bones and sweaty strands of hair hanging in his face, unable to be pushed away until the music fades and he’s left shuddering for breath.

his jeans cling to his sweat-slick legs, hoodie swishing back and forth, but he grins a little self-satisfied grin to himself at the attention he knows he’s getting when he runs a hand along his torso in time to _rainism_ ( _finally, some good fucking food,_ he thought when that familiar beat starts playing).

it’s when _rainism_ fades out and donghyuck is channeling his inner baek jiyoung as _my ear’s candy_ comes on that yukhei sidles up to him out of nowhere, rapping to taecyeon’s verse. and donghyuck can’t help but play along.

now, donghyuck knows both parts to this choreography by heart—because he’s watched countless performances of it on those shows for mothers in their 40s (and maybe he used to practice it religiously in the hopes that he’d be one of idols chosen to perform it alongside her one day)—so he’s well aware that the chorus would require him and a potential dance partner to get quite… touchy.

what he _isn’t_ aware of is that yukhei knows the dance as well—until his hand is on donghyuck’s pelvis and he’s whispering _i love you_ in mandarin dangerously near his ear, perfectly in time with the song. donghyuck almost forgets to pretend to hold the mic for him.

he thrusts his hips a little, in the subtle, feminine way jiyoung and her backup dancers do, but yukhei doesn’t pull away, though the choreo technically calls for them to have separated by now. the grip isn’t hard enough to be bruising or possessive; in fact, it’s so tauntingly light that donghyuck almost wants him to dig his fingers in a little more, press his chest flush to yukhei’s back.

but he keeps singing mindlessly, body-rolling from side to side and letting his head fall onto yukhei’s shoulder. their position becomes more of a backhug then, as yukhei continues rapping under his breath while gripping donghyuck’s hips with both hands and keeping his swaying form upright.

“we should leave soon,” he murmurs, lips grazing the shell of donghyuck’s ear. he just had someone’s teeth on it not even 15 minutes ago, but for some reason, knowing for certain that yukhei is the one behind him, holding him and practically _teasing_ him with his lips so fucking close, like he knows what he’s doing, feels even more intimate. “i think i’m sober enough to drive.”

“what, and miss out on all the fun?” donghyuck breathes, turning in yukhei’s hold to face him. they’re chest to chest, and for once donghyuck doesn’t feel like complaining when he has to tilt his chin upwards a tad to be at eye level with him.

“there’s plenty more fun back in the car,” yukhei grins wolfishly, and donghyuck feels a pang of something warm in the pit of his stomach. “now come on, before _move_ plays or something and i spontaneously combust.”

outside, the rain cools down donghyuck’s overheated skin. he closes his eyes, face towards the sky, and breathes in the fresh scent of summer air and wet earth.

the sky overhead is a beautiful pinkish purple, darkened by rainclouds. it looks like the impending thunderstorm has officially hit the city, because a clap of thunder goes off without warning. donghyuck jumps, giggling.

“come on, birthday boy,” yukhei cajoles. his hand wraps around donghyuck’s waist and holds him close. “the car’s a ways away, can’t have you falling over,” he explains when donghyuck shoots him a questioning glance.

“i’m not _that_ drunk,” donghyuck protests, but he burrows further into yukhei’s warmth nonetheless.

they sprint back to the near empty parking lot where they left the car, donghyuck’s head pounding with every flat footed step. inside, the heater warms them up, all flirtatious promises left outside along with the steadily worsening storm.

donghyuck rubs at his temples for a good 10 minutes while yukhei navigates his way to the highway, squinting through the torrent. the motion of windshield wipers moving back and forth as fast as they can puts him in a trance.

“you wouldn’t happen to have advil in here, would you?” donghyuck asks weakly.

yukhei winces. “nope, sorry,” he apologizes. he reaches out to rub donghyuck’s knee comfortingly, a fleeting touch that donghyuck wishes would last longer than it does. “just try and sleep it off, alright? we’re gonna be driving for a while.”

blindly, donghyuck fumbles for the blanket at his feet. he puts his mask and sunglasses into the glove box and pushes the seat back for extra leg room. “i don’t know how you can stay up for so long,” he grunts as he tries to fold his body into an acceptable position that doesn’t make him hurt anywhere. it’s proving to be difficult.

“clearly i’m not good at it, considering what happened the other day,” yukhei says, a tinge of resentment in his voice. his hands tighten around the wheel.

“i already forgave you for that, you doof,” donghyuck scolds. “we’re not dead, and that’s what matters.”

yukhei doesn’t respond.

usually, it’s easy for donghyuck to drift off, but this damned headache isn’t going away. he’s starting to get frustrated, and he can tell that yukhei is, too, if the way his jaw is locked is any indication. the rain sounds suspiciously like hail on the hood of yukhei’s car, ruining any kind of peaceful atmosphere for sleeping anyways.

so donghyuck settles for sitting there, eyes half-closed, mouth hanging open, staring somewhere ahead of him. he knows he must look dumb, but the alcohol is still running through his system, and increasing the pain in his skull tenfold.

there’s a loud sputter that could be thunder, but more likely the sound of yukhei’s car backfiring. “fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” yukhei mutters, stepping down on the gas. they shoot forward a foot or so and it happens again, louder this time. “ _fuck!_ ” he shouts, slamming his hand against the wheel.

donghyuck flinches. “pull over,” he mumbles, but yukhei is already doing so.

they skid to a stop in the grass. yukhei is still cursing, a random string of expletives in various languages that don’t make sense, and donghyuck doesn’t know how to calm him down. he watches as yukhei tugs at his hair, forehead against the wheel, and then stares in bewilderment as the elder opens the car door.

“what are you doing?” donghyuck squeaks, grabbing onto yukhei’s shoulder when the elder sticks out a tentative foot. “call a mechanic or something!”

yukhei shrugs him off. “i’m sure it’s something i can fix. i’ve been driving this hunk of junk for a few years and it does shit like this all the time.”

he slams the door behind him as he gets out. donghyuck huffs and sits back, arms crossed. _typical dudebro, refusing to admit when he’s gotten himself into more trouble than he can handle._

15 minutes or so go by, and the weather is only getting worse. donghyuck can’t see yukhei behind the raised hood, but it’s obvious he isn’t making any progress. “oh my god,” he groans, and throws the blanket into the backseat.

the rain soaks him to the bone instantly. yukhei glares up at him. he’s leaning over the engine, tank top stuck to his skin, hair plastered to his face. “get back in there,” he orders.

donghyuck shakes his head. he regrets wearing his hoodie out here. “i could tell you the same thing,” he says coolly. “this clearly isn’t something you can fix, yukhei. just call a tow truck. _please._ you’re making this more of a problem than it has to be.”

yukhei raises to his full height then, something downright murderous brewing in his gaze. “you know, if it wasn’t for you dragging me in there, we probably wouldn’t be having this _problem_ in the first place,” he says, voice shaking.

donghyuck laughs, a little hysterically. “you—you can’t be serious, right?” he asks. “this is _my_ fault?”

“you heard me,” yukhei sneers. “i was planning on getting out of busan sooner but _no,_ you just _had_ to go to your first club.”

this whole thing is ridiculous, and they’re projecting their anger onto one another. donghyuck knows that. but yukhei is standing here, accusing him with evidence that has no correlation to the situation at hand, and it’s starting to piss him off. “you didn’t look like you minded,” he begins, mocking yukhei’s words from earlier, “but you didn’t have to stay.”

yukhei wipes his soaking wet fringe back from his forehead. goddamnit, he’s still stupidly attractive, even when he leers and says, “well, you made it pretty obvious that you’re not trustworthy on your own,” through gritted teeth.

donghyuck’s eyes roll back into his head. “i had, like, six shots,” he deadpans. “so what? we didn’t get caught. there’s nothing wrong with celebrating.”

“you accepted those shots from a complete stranger,” yukhei adds. “they could’ve been spiked.”

“clearly they weren’t, genius.” donghyuck’s feet squelch in the mud when he takes a step back, closer to the fence that separates the highway from the steep hill below. he refuses to admit that yukhei has a valid point. “and it’s not like i went home with the guy, for fuck’s sake. i’m not that low.”

lightning strikes in the distance, and donghyuck jumps a little, cursing under his breath. fucking rain, fucking thunderstorm, fucking _yukhei._ apparently all the forces of the universe have teamed up to destroy donghyuck’s life.

yukhei sighs. “i never said you were, okay, i just want to make sure you understand that sometimes people aren’t trustworthy—”

“like me?” donghyuck interjects. yukhei tries to speak up, expression etched with regret, but donghyuck cuts him off again. “you can’t deny it, you just said—”

yukhei looks pained. he closes the hood with a loud slam and strides towards donghyuck, grabbing his forearm. his nails dig into the skin and it hurts, so much so that donghyuck lets out a whimper. “donghyuck, that’s different—”

“just _call a fucking tow truck,_ okay, why are we even fighting about this?” donghyuck shouts. he tries to wrench his arm out of yukhei’s grip, but to no avail.

something dark crosses over yukhei’s face. “oh i don’t know, maybe because i _care? _” he snarls, taking a step closer.__

____

donghyuck staggers backward. “i already have three nagging, overbearing people in my life, i don’t need a fourth,” he spits. “you know what? maybe i should have gone home with that guy. lord knows i could go without seeing _you_ again.”

____

if there’s one thing that donghyuck’s good at, it’s digging into people’s brains and picking apart what pushes their buttons. he’s gotten years of practice from pestering mark, and so he picks up on how his words affect yukhei in an instant: he stiffens, he lets go of donghyuck’s arm, his eyes widen, his lips purse. any comeback he was preparing for gets lost in the verbal assault donghyuck just fired upon him.

____

donghyuck also prides himself on being able to read people well. and while yukhei’s been a tough nut to crack, it’s becoming more obvious that this big, snarky, edgy facade he puts on when he’s arguing is simply a shell to hide the fearful, naive, softie underneath. but he doesn’t take pride in seeing yukhei weigh his options, shaking like a leaf in the rain, lip quivering and eyes shining with concealed tears. he doesn’t take pride in it at all, but donghyuck reminds himself that he’s not supposed to care, not when it’s his dignity versus hurting a virtual stranger’s feelings.

____

in the end, yukhei doesn’t choose to be easily shaken off. he surges forward again, reaching for him, cornering him, and some claustrophobia within donghyuck activates. he can barely see, the rain and darkness obscuring his vision, and he can barely hear what yukhei says next over the clap of thunder: “donghyuck, just _listen_ —”

____

“don’t _touch_ me!” donghyuck yells, shoving at yukhei’s chest as roughly as he can, and before he can register what’s happening, the elder is losing his balance in the slippery grass.

____

he hits the fencing first, arm dragging along its sharp edges until he hits the ground next, with a groan that strikes fear into donghyuck’s heart. “yukhei—” donghyuck chokes and he’s rushing forward, ready to yank yukhei up by his arm—but then he’s being pushed back, almost toppling over himself with the force yukhei projects into the shove.

____

they stare wildly at one another. yukhei looks scared out of his goddamn mind, both of himself and of donghyuck, staring at the palm he’d just used to force donghyuck away from him like it’s betrayed him somehow. donghyuck stumbles back and lets him breathe.

____

slowly, yukhei gets to his feet. he’s clutching his injured arm, mud splattered all along his side. he looks defeated, hunched shoulders making his large body look impossibly small. “get in the car,” he pleads. it’s washed out by the rain, but donghyuck hears what he says as if yukhei were right beside him. everything else has gone mute except for the voice of the broken boy in front of him, and donghyuck never wants to listen to anything else. yukhei’s eyes are glassy, begging, guilty even though he has no reason to be as he whispers, “please.”

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__🛣_ _

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the car will be out of commission for 12 hours.

____

yukhei knows that in terms of everything, it’s pretty convenient, because the town they happened to be near is one of those small hubs between big cities that has stop and shops and whatever else geared for travelers passing by. the local mechanics were more than happy to actually have some work to do.

____

but what really kills him is the fact that he has to throw away a couple hundred on this deathtrap on wheels. he worked his ass off in high school to buy it, and maintain it, and it holds more memories than he can count, but this kind of unexpected bullshit is really grinding its heel into his wallet.

____

though he’s learned how to save wisely in the college realm thanks to his hyungs, the rest of what he knows about frugality comes from his mom. yukhei doesn’t remember a time when his dad was in the picture, so to him it’s always been him and his mom, together against the world. she worked the same two jobs for 10 years and paid for everything she ever owned upfront in cash, until all that hard work paid off and she obtained a more respected, higher-paying job. 4 years later and she and yukhei were off from hong kong to korea, to an actual apartment, but they never forgot those early years of food stamps, shivering together on a one-person mattress in the corner of a 40-square foot room, communal bathrooms, the broken AC and heater, getting sick every other month and not having any medication to treat it. yukhei doesn’t know how he was able to sleep so soundly then but so poorly now, when his life is a million times better.

____

but just because it’s better doesn’t mean it’s amazing all the time. his mom would gladly lend him money if he asked, but yukhei has been adamant on living the true Broke College Student Lifestyle since he turned 18. he has to make something out of himself _by himself,_ and that means scoring his full ride to university, then opting out of dorm life, then the job he got at the local fruit stand near his and jungwoo’s apartment, etcetera etcetera. and right now, it means paying for his own things, even if someone else generously offers to take care of it.

____

because yes, haechan— _donghyuck,_ yukhei reminds himself, like he’s had to all day—tries to slide his black card over the counter as they stand there, wet and shivering, holding tightly to their suitcases like they never intend on letting go. yukhei wordlessly slides it right back, not even sparing donghyuck a glance.

____

he appreciates it, he really does, but the car is _his_ responsibility. just because donghyuck has the money, it doesn’t mean he has to spend it all on accidents and mistakes that have nothing to do with him.

____

it isn’t his fault. for the life of him, yukhei can’t understand why his stupid, _stupid_ brain convinced him to take his pent-up frustration and unleash it upon donghyuck—and on his _birthday,_ no less—but that’s what happened. and here they are.

____

he hates seeing donghyuck like this, all moody and unresponsive. everything was going well—too well, in fact, so of course that’s when life had to step in and ruin the progress he was making.

____

because he was making progress, wasn’t he? he was. donghyuck didn’t look like he wanted to choke yukhei out while they went on the little birthday excursion yukhei had planned on the fly the night before. they even danced together at the club and everything (yukhei doesn’t want to think about _that_ incident any time soon, at least not until he has some privacy).

____

donghyuck is a naturally flirtatious, charming person; yukhei learned that a while ago. idols are practically groomed to be that way. but tonight marked the first time he’s ever thought of donghyuck… _that_ way.

____

( _that way_ as in all sweaty and flushed, pressed against him in confidence, not shying away from yukhei’s touch.)

____

but he prefers the donghyuck that smiles wide and unashamed, who snorts on accident and gets embarrassed about it, who’s clingy and just looking for a cheek to kiss and a hand to hold. he definitely doesn’t like the donghyuck that sulks, who shrinks away from the contact that he craves, and raises his walls even higher than before. but this is the donghyuck he’s stuck with for the time being, and any donghyuck is better than none, he supposes. it’s a miracle he hasn’t ditched him yet.

____

he feels… strongly protective over donghyuck, in a way. not in the same way he felt about chenle and jisung, watching over them at school and making sure they told him about any injustices they faced from parents, peers, or teachers. not even in the way he felt about jeno, as in wanting him to be protected from all the evils of the world and ensuring nothing but his happiness forever, even if that means hurting himself in the process. no, this kind of protectiveness is selfish, far too invasive; because he wants all of the things that he wants for his friends for donghyuck as well, but he also kind of wants donghyuck to be _his,_ and his alone. he wants to steal donghyuck away and keep him forever, make sure he never slips up again and keeps donghyuck happy and safe and free from the plagues that follow idol life and the crushing feelings of rejection.

____

but he can’t ever have that, and he shouldn’t even be feeling this way, but it’s what he feels and yukhei has always been bad with bottling up his emotions. he has to let it all out, has to be expressive and open and out there or else he’ll explode.

____

he’s trying to conceal it, though, for donghyuck’s sake and for his own. and it _hurts,_ because jungwoo was right: yukhei’s too nice for his own good. but it goes far beyond that: he loves, he loves so hard and so fast that when someone leaves him he shuts down. he can thank his mild case of daddy issues for that.

____

he hasn’t had to reflect on this in years, having left these problems in the past with the tapping of pens against clipboards and the constant glances at the clock and the expanse of a popcorn ceiling up above him, waiting for the allotted hour to be up so he could get his new prescription and leave. god, therapy was awful. it’s the one and only time he’s ever resented his mother, when she would give him those _no ifs, ands, or buts_ speeches before forcing him into the car for his weekly session.

____

the papers are signed and his credit card is swiped and then it’s just him and donghyuck out on the sidewalk in the rain, without a car or even a semblance of a plan save the wrinkled piece of paper with directions to a motel that one of the mechanics had written out for them. yukhei takes the lead, and they trudge off to their destination in stony silence.

____

yukhei spends another 50 or so on the motel room, which once again has only one fucking bed since all of the double rooms are taken at almost midnight. donghyuck is already pulling back the comforter the second they get in. yukhei prepares to make himself comfortable on the floor later—but first, his main objective is getting some things to patch up his injury.

____

he’s only taken a few glances at it since he first made contact with the fence. the cut runs from his inner wrist to the crook of his elbow, just shy of being more than just a shallow wound. it’s a few centimeters wide and caked with dried blood and dirt and rainwater, and yukhei cringes whenever he looks at it. it hurts like hell to move it, and even when he keeps it still, his arm just throbs, and throbs, until he can barely feel anything else except for the pain.

____

that, and how cold he is. his clothes have yet to properly dry, so they adhere to his body uncomfortably. once they’ve shuffled up to their room, awkwardly waddling in their soaking wet attire, yukhei immediately strips off his tank top and pulls on a nice, fuzzy sweater instead. a pair of pajama pants follow after kicking off his swim trunks and changing into loose fitting boxers. donghyuck shuts himself in the bathroom without a word.

____

the rain is but a light sprinkle now, so yukhei steps out onto the street in search of the drug store he had been kindly directed to by the woman at the check-in desk. the moon is in its waning stages, a small sliver in the sky surrounded by glistening stars. yukhei looks up at them through the rain and can’t help but smile wryly.

____

the drug store is signified by a broken _open_ sign hanging on the window outside. only the _e_ is lit up. yukhei’s seen his fair share of dumpy places like this in his time, so the sight isn’t unfamiliar to him. one of his mom’s old jobs was at a shop similar to this one, down to the flickering lights and cracked linoleum floors.

____

a bell tinkles as yukhei tentatively pushes open the door. there’s no one else inside, save an older _ahjussi_ dozing off in a chair at the checkout counter, feet propped up and a newspaper laying across his lap. yukhei must be more nostalgic than usual, because he suddenly feels like he can see his younger self sitting behind that counter, working on homework or coloring aimlessly while his mother greeted customers.

____

he navigates through the aisles to find the first aid section. a wide array of strange-looking products greet him, so he grabs whatever looks familiar; several boxes of band-aids and some wrapping tape.

____

the bell at the door tinkles again. yukhei hears footsteps, coming closer and closer until they stop beside him.

____

“hey.”

____

the voice is hesitant, yet still head-turning. yukhei steadies himself, takes a deep breath, and looks up.

____

donghyuck is there, with his ridiculous sunglasses and faded brown hair in damp, sleep-given waves. the outfit he’s changed into is a weird mesh of sleepwear and club-esque attire; the sweatshirt he’s wearing hangs off his frame, but the same pair of wet, skin-tight jeans are still molded to his legs. to top it all off, his feet are snug in a pair of threadbare slippers.

____

in one hand is an empty shopping basket, held out to him.

____

yukhei doesn’t trust himself to speak, not with his racing thoughts and the fact that he hasn’t spoken aloud in several hours. he takes the basket and dumps his armful of supplies into it, still staring dumbly at the boy in front of him. he hadn’t realized that donghyuck even knew where he was, let alone trailed after him in the rain.

____

donghyuck doesn’t move, those stupidly inviting lips parted just so as he watches yukhei squirm. the eye contact becomes too much to bear, so yukhei stands up, burning a hole into the tile instead as he shuffles past the idol.

____

a hand grasps his wrist, barely wrapping all the way around the thinnest part near his hand. without asking, donghyuck rolls up the sleeve of yukhei’s university sweater, revealing the jagged incision along his arm. the blood has started to congeal by now, but it hurts like hell, and the pressure of donghyuck’s fingers against the wound aren’t helping in the slightest.

____

“i can patch that up for you,” donghyuck murmurs. he traces the gouge with the pad of his index finger. yukhei can’t suppress the shiver that runs along his spine.

____

“it’ll heal,” he says, quiet. “i got some band aids.”

____

donghyuck rolls his eyes. he lets go and the oddly tender moment is gone. “those won’t do shit unless you’re still bleeding. you need to let the wound breathe.”

____

yukhei watches as donghyuck takes two of the three boxes of band-aids he had grabbed and sets them back where they were. “what you _really_ need,” he begins, beckoning for yukhei to follow him to the end of the aisle, “is some neosporin and hydrogen peroxide.”

____

“ _nooooo,_ ” yukhei whines. donghyuck shoots him an unimpressed glare as he squats to look through the array of first aid products. “peroxide _huuuurts_.”

____

“and being a little bitch hurts your ego,” donghyuck quips in a split second. yukhei barks out a laugh, one of the high-pitched ones he’s successfully kept stifled until now. he flushes and clears his throat, but donghyuck merely quirks an amused brow.

____

“has there always been a section of your brain dedicated to comebacks?” yukhei can’t help but ask after a brief silence. 90% of everything donghyuck’s said to him over the past 5 days has been laced with sarcasm and rudeness. “or is it just because of me?”

____

“don’t worry, you’re not special,” donghyuck mumbles. he doesn’t even look up.

____

for some reason, yukhei’s chest feels oddly tight. “ah, so you hate everyone then,” he says sagely, nodding.

____

donghyuck stands, peroxide in hand. there’s an unreadable expression in his gaze. “something like that.”

____

he pays for their things without complaint (yukhei remembers at the last second to grab a bottle of advil). “you already paid for the car and the room,” he mutters when yukhei shakes his head at him and pulls out some squashed won notes he’d stuffed in the pocket of his sweats.

____

yukhei looks down at his phone as they’re leaving, just as it turns to midnight. “you’ve officially been 18 for one whole day now,” he says, without any enthusiasm. “sorry you had to spend it like this.”

____

“actually, it’s one of the best birthdays i’ve ever had,” donghyuck says quietly. “...you know, if you exclude the whole car-breaking-down thing.”

____

“oh,” is all yukhei can think to say.

____

he spares quick glances at donghyuck as they walk. he’s staring at the sidewalk underneath their feet, swinging the grocery bag back and forth absentmindedly. the street lamps they pass enhance the glowing undertone of his darker skin, and yukhei thinks dumbly that he looks a little bit like an angel, all chubby-cheeked and ruddy with a golden halo encircling his hair.

____

the door to their room is shabby and gray, paint chipping off at the edges to reveal the stained plywood underneath. a golden number _12_ was once plastered to the door, as the other room entrances on this floor have such decor, but it’s been ripped off somehow, leaving a dusty imprint of itself in its wake. yukhei unlocks the door and perches on the edge of the musty bed. donghyuck throws the plastic shopping bag in front of him and slips off his shoes.

____

yukhei looks at the bottle of peroxide’s label, peeking out at him from the translucent plastic, and winces. “what am i supposed to do, pour this on the cut?” he asks, looking up at donghyuck helplessly.

____

donghyuck rolls his eyes. “i told you that i was going to do it,” he sighs, making grabby hands for the bottle. he sits down across from yukhei and twists open the cap. “and that’s what the cotton balls are for.”

____

yukhei’s eyes widen. “to stuff in my arm?”

____

“i’ll stuff them in your _mouth_ if you don’t shut up."

____

yukhei shrinks back a little. “okay, sorry, just—don’t hurt me too much,” he stammers, keeping his arm out of donghyuck’s reach.

____

donghyuck guides yukhei’s arm gently back to his lap. he holds a cotton ball to the open lid of the peroxide and tilts it so the cotton is soaked with the chemical. the unpleasant, overpowering scent makes yukhei wrinkle his nose. “i can’t promise that it won’t hurt you, stupid,” donghyuck scoffs.

____

“well you could certainly be less mean about it,” yukhei says, timid. he locks his shoulders as the cotton ball gets closer and closer to the cut.

____

donghyuck’s movements still. “are you really asking me not to be mean right now?” he asks quietly. there’s more he wants to say, yukhei can tell.

____

he looks up then, and yukhei forces himself to maintain eye contact. “i’m sorry." donghyuck’s face is perfectly blank. yukhei briefly wonders if anyone has ever been able to read him easily. “i was frustrated and i was still a little tipsy, and i took it out on you. it was uncalled for.”

____

“i think me tending to this for you is apology enough,” donghyuck starts, and yukhei is already nodding, “but i’m sorry, too. for everything i said and did.”

____

yukhei’s uncertainties are picking at him, trying to goad him in believing that donghyuck isn’t telling the truth, but he ignores it. donghyuck looks at him with so much concern and guilt amongst the anger, and yukhei knows how hard those emotions are to fake.

____

he brings the cotton ball to yukhei’s arm, and a flare of pain rockets through his nerves like he’s been burned. a slew of curses leave his mouth as he tenses up, toes curling in the shag carpeting. donghyuck’s lips quirk up, imperceptibly so, but yukhei notices in an instant. “oh my god, you’re totally deriving pleasure from my pain,” he gasps, because he has never felt such betrayal before, how _dare_ he.

____

a genuine smile grows on donghyuck’s lips. yukhei forgets about the betrayal as soon as it occurred. “a little,” he admits with a small lift of his shoulders, and goes back to dabbing at the wound. it isn’t long before the cotton ball is dry and stained a dark red.

____

yukhei hisses through his teeth and throws his head back. “ _fuck,_ ” he groans, very loudly and very passionately. donghyuck smacks his knee.

____

“keep it down,” he hisses, face turning a little pink. yukhei grins despite the searing torture being inflicted upon him. “just talk to distract yourself, or whatever. you’re good at blabbing on about fuck-all.”

____

“that is one of my many strengths,” yukhei nods. donghyuck’s sour expression suggests that he grudgingly agrees. “but, uh, i actually have a question: why’d you tell me your name?”

____

donghyuck doesn’t say anything for a minute. “we’re supposed to be distracting me,” yukhei reminds him, and whimpers a little when donghyuck digs the second cotton ball into his skin.

____

“i don’t know,” he answers finally, while he’s carefully coating the cut in several layers of neosporin. “it just seemed like the right time to say it. it was getting kinda weird just hearing you calling me by my stage name when we’re basically friends.”

____

“basically?” yukhei exclaims. “i thought we were bee eff effs. soulmates for life. i’m _hurt,_ donghyuck. _crushed. destroyed._ ”

____

“the peroxide fumes have got to be getting to you,” donghyuck mumbles, but he’s fighting back a smile. “and i thought your _’bee eff eff’_ was jungwoo, or whatever.”

____

yukhei shouldn’t be as intrigued as he is when he hears the jealousy laced in donghyuck’s tone. “actually—” he changes thought mid-sentence, thank god—“yeah, he was, but you have the potential to usurp him. you have to fight to the death, though.”

____

he almost brought up jeno just then. he’s only mentioned him casually as the obsessive fan of _haechan,_ the flashy stage persona that is worlds away from the boy seated in front of him. and besides, yukhei doesn’t even know if he’s considered to be jeno’s best friend anymore. that title probably belongs to jaemin now. maybe it had since the beginning.

____

he’s heard nothing but radio silence from jeno since the panicked texts about donghyuck’s disappearance. jisung and chenle have at least been texting him from time to time, sending him their well wishes and the occasional meme. and of course his college hyungs have been blowing up their group chat on the daily. there must be a lot on jeno’s mind though, what with leaving for college in a month or two and all, but it isn’t like him not to check up every once in a while. he’s too nice to neglect yukhei completely.

____

donghyuck’s laugh breaks him out of his reverie. “i’d totally win. jungwoo is too soft to try and hurt me,” he boasts, puffing his chest a little.

____

back in gyeongju, jungwoo sneezes.

____

yukhei ducks his head and stifles a giggle into his free palm. “you say that now, but watch out,” he warns. “jungwoo has a secret sadistic streak. and he’s almost as tall as me, so.”

____

donghyuck pulls a face. “just because i’m shorter than you guys doesn’t mean i’m not strong,” he protests. “i mean, i’m not, but. don’t make assumptions.”

____

yukhei can’t keep his cackles hidden this time. donghyuck is staring at him, head cocked. “you don’t laugh how you look,” he blurts.

____

“yeah, so i’ve been told.” yukhei flushes. “it’s way too loud, that’s what everyone says.”

____

donghyuck hums and unwraps some of the medical tape. “if it makes you feel any better, i think it’s cute,” he murmurs, suddenly very interested in concentrating on dressing the wound with expert precision.

____

when his arm is wrapped up in the tape and both of them have popped a few advil, yukhei spreads out the blanket that he’d thankfully pulled out of the car onto the floor. “what are you doing?” donghyuck asks, stilling as he’s about to lift the corner of the comforter.

____

“going to sleep?” yukhei replies, phrasing it like a question. “this is what i’ve been doing every night, dude.”

____

“don’t _dude_ me,” donghyuck sneers, then his expression loosens, replaced with worry. “do you really think i’m mean enough to make you sleep on the floor after everything that just happened?”

____

“i’ll admit, i wouldn’t put it past you,” yukhei says, grinning, but he bounds over to the other side of the bed anyways. “thanks, hyuck.”

____

“don’t mention it,” donghyuck mumbles. he turns off the light before yukhei can get a good look at the red cheeks he knows the younger is sporting.

____

once they’re situated, donghyuck rolls over to face him in the dark. “i’m just gonna—” he buries his face in yukhei’s sweater.

____

“you—you do that,” yukhei stutters, even though donghyuck already _has_ done that, so what he just said is futile. but thankfully it seems like donghyuck’s already half-asleep, as he grumbles something unintelligible and crowds in closer.

____

yukhei slowly extricates his injured arm from donghyuck’s hold to drape it over his side. his chin touches the top of donghyuck’s head, so he rests it there, letting his eyes slip shut.

____

for a few minutes, it’s dead silent, save the whirring of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of bedsprings.

____

“oh my god, i let some rando _tongue-fuck my ear_.”

____

yukhei’s resounding laughter is loud enough to wake the whole goddamn building.

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“get off of me, i need to pee.”

____

“good morning to you, too.”

____

donghyuck pinches yukhei’s stomach. there’s not much fat to grab. “let me _go_ ,” he whines, wriggling.

____

“nope, you’re gonna stay here and be my personal heater forever,” yukhei grins down at him, combing through the wispy curls at the base of donghyuck’s neck with his fingers. the action sends a trail of goosebumps down his nape.

____

he does let go, though, and donghyuck is stupidly disappointed, like that wasn’t what he was asking for. he slides out of bed and pads over to the bathroom, the air cooling the exposed skin that isn’t covered by his shorts or oversized sweater.

____

he washes his hands quickly, humming to himself all the while. a brief glance at his bag, which he’d left here last night, has him digging through it for his toothpaste and toothbrush.

____

just in case.

____

yukhei is struggling to get out of bed when donghyuck comes back, breath now minty fresh. “nope,” he chirps, and throws himself on top of yukhei, who wheezes. “we can’t get up now. it’s—” he glances at the alarm clock on the bedside table—“only 7am.”

____

“what if _i_ need to pee?” yukhei grouses, but he lays back against the pillows in defeat. donghyuck flashes his teeth in triumph and rolls off so he’s on his stomach, cheek against yukhei’s chest and arm splayed across his waist. “you know, i’m not used to you acting like you don’t hate my guts.”

____

“what can i say, i’m willing to put a lot of shit aside for cuddles,” donghyuck shrugs. “you’re warm, and you smell nice.” _and i kindofsortofmaybelikeyou._

____

yukhei has to give himself a bit of a double chin to look down at donghyuck, fixing him with a small smile. there’s a little bit of stubble dotting his jaw and upper lip, and donghyuck understands the struggle; his legs haven’t felt this rough in months. “i’ll never understand you,” he says, but he sure looks like he wants to.

____

“true, i am an enigma,” donghyuck sighs, propping himself up on his elbow. their faces are level now, and donghyuck’s stupid heart picks up a little in speed. “no one will ever fully uncover the inner workings of my mind.”

____

yukhei’s eyes are puffy and ridden with sleep-sand, blinking blearily and wincing at the light filtering in through the moth-eaten curtains. “i’m sure they’re impressive,” he muses, looking a little starry-eyed. his gaze drifts downwards ever so slightly. “i’d love to find out.”

____

donghyuck’s mouth curls up in a soft, sleepy smile, and he leans in a little closer. “you could,” he murmurs, eyes lidded, lips pursing—

____

the ear-splitting chorus of _kiss me thru the phone_ cuts though the tension like a knife. donghyuck flinches as yukhei swears and fumbles for his phone on the floor, the moment lost.

____

donghyuck’s never hated american pop songs from the 2000s more than he does right now.

____

yukhei sits up, his back to donghyuck as his feet make contact with the ground. donghyuck pouts. there goes his plan for sleepy morning cuddles (and maybe something more).

____

“jeno?” yukhei’s asking, a little breathless. the infliction in his voice is shaky and very suspicious. “yeah, yeah i’ve been great!” he exclaims, a little too loud. donghyuck winces. “how’ve you been?”

____

he stands up and walks to the bathroom. donghyuck watches him go, rendered speechless, as the door shuts behind him.

____

he’s never made a bed angrily before, but there’s a first time for everything—he stuffs the corners of the rumpled sheets underneath the mattress with a scowl, and punches the pillows to fluff them. he was so fucking close, what the _fuck_ —

____

yukhei’s laugh echoes throughout the room, sharp and high-pitched. donghyuck glowers at the closed door and slaps the pillows extra hard for good measure.

____

jealousy is just part of donghyuck’s nature, always has been. he remembers being sulky when taeyong joined the company and johnny fell for him instantly, because he didn’t want his manager’s attention and energy wasted on someone that wasn’t him (14 year old donghyuck was an asshole). when his first younger brother was born, he refused to go near him for weeks, in fear that his parents would forget all about him (6 year old donghyuck was also an asshole). it’s an odd mix of attention whore tendencies, general brattiness, and a dash of abandonment issues that gets him flared up at the thought of someone else barging in and taking what is, in his mind, rightfully _his._

____

there’s still so much he doesn’t know about yukhei. he has no idea how this _jeno_ guy fits into yukhei’s life, but he looked so happy to be talking to him, and that’s enough to set off donghyuck’s mental warning bells.

____

maybe it’s better if he doesn’t kiss yukhei. they haven’t even known each other for a full week yet, and even if they say they’ll keep in touch, it wouldn’t happen—their lives just don’t align. donghyuck has his career to think about, yukhei doesn’t really have one yet, and soon enough, they’re going to drive back up to seoul, part ways, and probably never see each other again.

____

it’s easy to say, but harder to accept. because donghyuck knows that he’d said the exact opposite of this last night, but he doesn’t think he could live without seeing yukhei again—not in a _Super Serious, Actually Can’t Live On A La Romeo And Juliet kind of way._

____

more like a _Your Smile Kind Of Sort Of Maybe Brightens Up My Life And Without It I Will Never Be The Same_ kind of way.

____

so if this jeno person is the one making yukhei smile, that’s all that matters, right? besides, not to brag or anything, but donghyuck is _fairly_ certain in where yukhei’s interests lie, so. it’s probably just a false alarm.

____

he changes quickly before yukhei comes back out after several minutes. “sorry about tha—huh? no cuddles?” he asks mid-apology, lips downturned, and really, how many times is the lord going to test donghyuck in the span of 12 hours? is this all because he threw away the pocket bible mark gave him last year (donghyuck loves G-man as much as the next guy, okay, but what kind of birthday present is a fucking _bible_ )?

____

“looks like you missed your chance,” donghyuck shrugs, when in reality he’s mentally beating the shit out of himself. “get dressed, i wanna go find some place to eat.”

____

“fine, but only if you hold my hand on the way,” yukhei grins. “you know, to make up for those missed cuddles.”

____

donghyuck might combust soon.

____

this new side of yukhei is here, and apparently out for blood. he undresses right in front of donghyuck, with no cares in the world (donghyuck may have let out an involuntary squeak and covered his face for a good ten minutes), he flirts obnoxiously (and pathetically) while they’re packing up their things ( _“so… you come here often?”_ ), and laces his fingers with donghyuck’s the second they leave the room.

____

the size of yukhei’s hands will probably never cease to amaze him. donghyuck has quite long and slender fingers himself, but they’re nothing compared to the elegant, ripped-straight-out-of-a-manga yaoi hands that yukhei has. they’re gangly like the rest of him, a little crooked if he stretches them out all the way, but it’s oddly so representative of him that donghyuck has to stop and wonder why he’s waxing lyrical about fucking _fingers_. but even his nails are perfectly manicured, damnit, this is bordering on harassment now.

____

he must have removed the bandages in the bathroom earlier, because now the scar donghyuck gave him is on full display. it sticks out from the rest of his skin, raised red lines that look excruciatingly painful. a few greenish-yellow bruises dot the skin around it.

____

donghyuck’s eyes are glued to it, and yukhei notices. “it feels a lot better, thanks to you,” he says reassuringly, and he shouldn’t be making donghyuck feel better about something that he caused, but he is, and it makes him feel a thousand times lighter.

____

above them, the sun is a fuzzy golden yellow, basking the drying streets in its warmth. donghyuck’s maroon pullover is absorbing all the heat, but yukhei, in his white t-shirt and torn up jeans, is probably fine. he glows, and donghyuck can’t look away.

____

the air around them isn’t tense, per se. but it’s definitely strange, and as donghyuck watches yukhei it’s like he can hear him thinking. there’s something he wants to say, something that’s on the tip of his tongue, and donghyuck wonders what it could be. perhaps a flirtatious remark, or another cheesy one-liner, or, better yet, a _confession—_

____

“have you ever been scared of anything?”

____

donghyuck blinks. he hadn’t expected a question quite like that, and certainly not all of a sudden. yukhei has a habit of doing this, it seems, just voicing the first thought that pops into his head. it’s an endearing quality, but it also could end up disastrously if it were to come out at a bad time.

____

“or, like, nervous? or something?” yukhei adds hastily, cheeks darkening. “sorry, i know this is random, i just—you know what, forget i said anything—”

____

a squeeze to the hand shuts him up. “hey, it’s okay,” donghyuck soothes. “i only get scared, like, all the time.”

____

yukhei gnaws on his bottom lip, the fingers of his free hand curled into a fist at his side. “care to share any stories?” he asks, shoes scuffing along the sidewalk.

____

“is this the part where you dramatically reveal that you’ve been a dispatch reporter this whole time?” donghyuck jibes, and yukhei laughs a little, but he’s waiting, and donghyuck knows that he can’t joke himself out of this one.

____

“uh, my first ever debut performance was pretty nerve-wracking. i actually vomited right before i went on stage. collapsed in my manager’s arms the second it was over.”

____

he still recalls that day with perfect clarity. he’d awoken the morning of the showcase filming far earlier than necessary, ate only a few bites of toast for breakfast, and spent the next few hours running through choreo by himself in his room over and over again. mark was a trainee by then, and he sat on the edge of donghyuck’s bed, kicking his feet against the backboard and cheering him on as he practiced.

____

there wasn’t much in his guts to spill when he hunched over a trash can backstage minutes before he was scheduled to perform, johnny rubbing his back and whispering _“i’m sorry, kiddo, but i can’t get ’em to budge. you’ve gotta go out in five.”_ a makeup artist gave him one last touch-up, coloring his pallid cheeks, and donghyuck stepped out into darkness, waiting for the cue that would begin the start of the rest of life.

____

“did you ever get used to it?” yukhei asks. “performing, i mean.”

____

donghyuck mulls the question over in his mind. “with each show, it got easier and easier,” he says eventually. “my promotion time wasn’t very long. i performed for about two weeks straight and by then, i only went out with mild butterflies.” he chuckles a little at the memory and scratches at the back of his neck. “the nervousness never really fades, because shit can happen and everyone will notice your mistakes when it’s just you up there, but i kind of feed off of the anxiety now, you know?”

____

yukhei hangs his head. “you’re a great dancer,” he mutters. “you just… melt into the music. it’s cool to watch.”

____

donghyuck flushes. “thank you,” he says to the concrete. “that actually means a lot.”

____

it really does. he’s always been a quick learner, but with dancing it took him a bit longer to be able to project emotion through every movement, every step conveying a different tone. his old choreographers were good enough, but it wasn’t until taeyong joined the company that donghyuck truly learned what it meant to be passionate while dancing. _“play this song whenever it feels appropriate to,”_ he’d say with every new piece he’d teach donghyuck—as part of an overarching learning exercise. _“begin to associate specific feelings with that song and as we choreograph it, think about those feelings, about the memories you connected to the song.”_

____

they haven’t done that in a while, but mostly because it’s just become a habit of donghyuck’s now—whether it’s an original track of his or just someone else’s that he wants to choreograph for fun, he always takes a week or so to listen to it when it fits the mood of the moment that he’s in. and then he transfers those feelings to the practice room, and then to the stage, where he shares that feeling with an entire audience.

____

fluidity was another thing he used to struggle with, especially as a bumbling tween who felt out of place in his own body. that grace has come with experience and age and the gift of puberty, which blessed him with long, slender legs and a petite frame that moves lithely across the stage.

____

these technical details are small in the grand scheme of things, but they make all the difference. donghyuck is often praised on the web for his dancing skills, said to be able to bring a tear to even the most stone-faced of men with his dazzling contemporary dance—aka his specialty. and to hear that even yukhei, someone who could care less about idols, can see the finesse behind his dancing makes donghyuck feel oddly accomplished.

____

they come to a stop in front of a quaint little diner tucked into a corner next to a department store. inside, it’s fairly busy, but they’re seated across from each other in a booth near the back fairly quickly. donghyuck takes off his facemask but keeps the sunglasses on, ignoring the waitress that stares at him curiously while he orders.

____

when she walks away, yukhei’s hand creeps across the table towards where donghyuck’s is resting (purposefully within his reach). he’s cautious, like he’s worried about attracting attention and crossing donghyuck’s boundaries at the same time, and donghyuck smiles at his menu, takes that last step and slots their fingers together.

____

this casual intimacy isn’t something he’s unfamiliar with—donghyuck loves showering friends with his love—but this is Different. with a capital D. similar to the way he felt when he sidled up to mark and tried to steal kisses, but Different because this is reciprocated, this has _potential,_ and that is terrifying yet exhilarating all at once.

____

yukhei’s trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on it repeatedly until the skin is red and raw. donghyuck aches to swipe over the cut that’s starting to form there with his chapstick-covered lips, but refrains. holding hands in a public space like this is bad enough. “if you’re looking for scarier stories,” he begins, and yukhei’s head snaps up, “uh, there were these… death threats i got for a while, i guess.”

____

“you _guess?_ ” yukhei says incredulously. his eyebrows have disappeared past his hairline. “death threats are pretty cut and dry.”

____

donghyuck can’t look up. “i just say that to minimize the situation,” he admits to the table.

____

yukhei hums in understanding. “therapy tactic,” he says wisely, nodding.

____

that has donghyuck tearing his gaze from his lap to yukhei’s face. he’s smiling patiently, waiting for donghyuck to continue, but his gaze conveys that he understands, he sympathizes, and they can always talk about this later if donghyuck needs to. the tightness in his lungs is slowly dissipating.

____

“it was for a short period of time, really. a month or something. some netizen went crazy in forums, saying they were going to find out how to get into the company building and get rid of me for good.” he shrugs. remembers to breathe steadily. “you hear shit like that all the time when you’re getting big. an exec told me i should be _grateful_ for it, because i was making headlines all of a sudden.”

____

this was over a year ago now, and donghyuck can safely say he’s put away the fear that plagued him for months, even after the netizen went quiet. his nights were spent in fitful sleep stunted by paranoia, waking up at odd hours to check if the doors were locked and the curtains drawn. johnny kept a sharpened pocket knife in his back pocket at all times, wherever they went. security increased tenfold. background checks and pat downs were mandatory for fans trying to get into signing events. after one particularly high-level threat that left donghyuck a curled-up shaking ball on his bathroom floor, the police were called, an IP traced, the culprit sued.

____

it was a young girl, younger than donghyuck, one not capable of violence but certainly capable of carrying so much hatred in her heart. something about stealing the spotlight from her favorite sm artists, she claimed. because that was a logical reason to threaten someone’s life.

____

donghyuck had looked at her scowling face behind the cell door, her frame frail and thin and hardly intimidating, and hated himself a little. for letting this affect him, for letting this plague his every waking moment and even sneak into his dreams at night.

____

he’s famous, sure, but not as big as his labelmates that have debuted before him. coming from a company of hugely successful artists, there has always been some pressure to be on their level, but he hasn’t quite gotten there yet. incidents like his have happened in the past, but they were never as serious, or leveled at a 17 year old kid.

____

so as much as he hates to admit it, the threats skyrocketed donghyuck to a level of fame unprecedented for the age of 17. he had a comeback within the month, his best one to date, with almost a month of promotions. people were buying his album out of pity, but ended up liking his music and sticking around.

____

it was great to have all of that support following the incident, but donghyuck still couldn’t shake his fears. once the comeback was over, johnny suggested therapy.

____

he actually enjoyed it, because the therapist was nice and taught him ways to deal with his anxiety that helped immensely, and soon enough he was back to the same jokester he had always been.

____

of course, until his big slip-up in august.

____

yukhei appears to be at a loss for words. his thumb is covering donghyuck’s own, so he traces circles into his skin, the touch comforting. donghyuck smiles, a tinge of sadness to it.

____

he doesn’t start with last august; rather, he starts a good 6 years ago, with a scrawny canadian boy who came to korea to make something of himself, and the younger native boy with several years of experience already under his belt. they hated each other at first—well, the canadian hated, and the native saw the whole thing as a game.

____

their friendship forms tentatively, as the canadian finally begins to accept that the native isn’t planning on fucking off anytime soon because he’s stubborn like that. they share a bunk, and spend hours dangling off the edges, talking to one another in the dark until someone else in the cramped trainee dorm room sleepily tells them off. they sit next to each other in the cafeteria, jostling one another in their weird display of affection that everyone soon comes to expect from their new duo.

____

fast forward one year later and the native is set to debut. watching him from the sidelines, supporting him until the end, is the canadian, who’s now become his best friend and one of the few people he trusts in the world. he brings the native peace, strokes his hair when he dozes off in the canadian’s lap, initiates innocent skinship with him because the native loves to hold and be held.

____

those years of friendly intimacy suddenly feel like so much _more_ to the native several years down the line, when he’s 15 and struggling to figure himself out under the scrutiny of the spotlight. the canadian, who has now debuted himself, is oblivious to his feelings, because he’s kind of dumb and they don’t ever talk about those things anyways, but it doesn’t make the native feel any better.

____

then, a father figure in the native’s life finds a partner, and their relationship is healthy, stable, different in the eyes of the public but no different in dynamic of what is deemed a “regular” relationship and the native needed that. needed that to realize that he wants something like that, even if he is ostracized because of it.

____

but he doesn’t pursue the canadian right away—because he’s scared. he’s scared of what he’ll say and what will happen if the native confesses that he sees the canadian as more than a friend, because he doesn’t know if he’s seen the same way.

____

but it becomes more and more of an issue, until the native can barely do anything without thinking about the canadian. about his annoyingly beautiful eyes, or his silky hair, or his dumb laugh. about his loyalty, and his dedication, and everything he has that the native strives for but can never achieve.

____

the native’s love for his friend far outweighs the jealousy, but it still rears its ugly head sometimes—when their sunbaes are all scrabbling to collaborate with the canadian, when his album sales are exponentially higher than the native’s though he debuted later. it’s thanks to stupid scandals and false rumors that netizens fire at the native because he’s young and makes for an easy target, and it weighs on his reputation and his already aching heart.

____

but he’s happy for the canadian, he really is. in the years that pass, their friendship never wavers, and sometimes the native lets himself get caught up in wishful thinking, interprets the stares he catches sometimes and the smiles they share as something more. and he _wants_ it to be more.

____

another year of pining passes and the native can’t hold it in anymore. the canadian’s in the midst of a successful comeback, his best to date. the native has been to each and every show, hyping him up from backstage. he watches the canadian perform and falls even more in love, because he’s never seen someone put as much effort into what they do as the canadian does and shine so much while doing so.

____

it all culminates into the moments following the canadian’s very last show. the native hugs him the second he steps off, and as he leads the canadian to his dressing room, the feeling that something big is about to happen weighs deeply in his chest.

____

the canadian is wiping his face with a towel, flushed down to his neck and panting. the native soothes him with a hand on his shoulder, and there’s a moment of silence as they stare at each other—and the native is leaning in before he can stop himself.

____

his worst fears come true, because soon enough he’s wordlessly being pushed away and the canadian is running from him. from _them_. he leaves the native in the dressing room alone, crouching and crying into his knees. 

____

a month of silence follows, a month of feeling shitty and feeling like he’s unworthy and undeserving of anyone or anything. a month of pain goes by before the canadian comes back to him, tucking into his side in the kitchen under the eagle eyes of everyone in on the hot gossip like nothing had ever changed. it’s his way of apologizing, because they’ve never been able to communicate well about anything. still, the native stamps down the hurt and rests his head against the canadian’s. _yeah. that’s okay._

____

but it isn’t, and the native knows that. the hurt never really goes away.

____

“things have never really been the same,” donghyuck is saying. their meals have been brought to them by now, and he’s talking through mouthfuls of food. yukhei is scarfing down himself, but he’s watching donghyuck with rapt attention, like this story is the most important thing he’ll ever hear in his life. “we try, but it’s just… off. and it will probably be off forever.” he stuffs a piece of overly-garnished fried egg into his mouth, letting the bitter taste of pepper look like the reason he’s tearing up. “congratulations, now you’ve unlocked my entire tragic backstory.”

____

yukhei smiles, but he still looks sad—not out of pity, but out of understanding. empathy. “you don’t look that affected by it,” he points out. “another therapy tactic?”

____

donghyuck frowns, brows pinching. “no, it’s not a tactic,” he says. “i guess i’m just used to it? my life is just one big disappointment, so.”

____

“ _stoooop,_ you’re great,” yukhei says, kicking donghyuck’s shin lightly under the table, and it’s such a simple thing to say but donghyuck’s heart still flutters.

____

he thinks he knows why the hurt is starting to fade.

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“we have three hours left to kill, and we’re spending it in a laundromat?”

____

“hey, laundromats can be fun,” yukhei protests. he leans against the washing machine. donghyuck’s sat across from him on a bench, swinging his feet and grazing the floor with the tips of his toes. “i’ll have you know that i’ve had many a drunk conversation in my local laundromat at 3am with my friends.”

____

donghyuck huffs. “well we’re not drunk, nor is it 3am, so by your logic, we’re not having fun.” he crosses his arms and legs indignantly and ends up looking cuter than he probably wants to.

____

“i always have fun when i’m with you,” yukhei says, voice purposefully husky, lips jutted out a little more for the added cheesy effect. he can’t see donghyuck’s face because he’s ducked his head, but he mumbles something that’s probably insulting and stares down at his phone.

____

yukhei grins to himself. he drums his fingers against the back of the machine and hums along to whatever pop song is playing through the crackly speakers. there are a few other people here, most of them far older than him and donghyuck. they keep scowling in their direction, as if their mere youthful presence is insulting somehow.

____

even though his apartment back in cali is equipped with a perfectly functional washer and dryer, jungwoo’s kept up this narrative of the damn thing breaking every few weeks. to keep up appearances, yukhei’s been forced to wash his clothes elsewhere while jungwoo got to ask Doyoung From Next Door for help. jaehyun and sicheng’s washer has been broken since jaehyun overflowed it with clothes once, several years before yukhei moved in, so jaehyun, who will forever be on laundry duty to repay his sin, would go to the local laundromat with him, usually while they were under the influence of multiple substances. he doesn’t mention any of the specifics to donghyuck, though, because it’s not the kind of thing you say to impress people. it’s more of a thing you keep to yourself because it reveals how pathetic you are—but hey, that’s the quintessential university experience in a nutshell.

____

“are you one of those guys that just parties all the time and ends up bombing all of his classes?” donghyuck asks, nose scrunched, and yukhei’s suddenly incredibly glad that his major has converted him into a husk of a once lively man that now spends a majority of his time hunched over a desk, studying until his brain is liquified.

____

even if he was one of _’those guys,’_ yukhei would surely lie, because donghyuck looks so genuinely disgusted at the thought. “trust me, if i was a raging alcoholic, i would have died of liver failure already,” yukhei jokes, because he tends to overdo it on the rare occasions that he does indulge himself in such pleasures. “i let loose sometimes with my friends, but it’s not an everyday thing.”

____

“good,” is all donghyuck says for a moment. then he looks up. “what’s the plan for the rest of today?”

____

yukhei winces. he has an idea of where he wants to go next, but after all they’ve been through he’d be fine—albeit a little disappointed—if donghyuck wanted to cut the trip short. “i was on the way to mokpo when the car broke down, so if that’s cool with you we can still go.” he averts his eyes then, staring down at his twiddling thumbs. “unless you, uh, want to get to seoul a little earlier.”

____

“no!” donghyuck exclaims. his ears are tinged red, and the color only deepens when yukhei holds his gaze and doesn’t look away. “i mean—ugh, fuck it. i like spending time with you, okay?”

____

he’s shy to admit it, a little vulnerable, and yukhei is loving this. “is it really that embarrassing to say?” he asks, feigning a wounded expression. “do i repulse you so?”

____

“how are you not an acting major, you overdramatic asshole,” donghyuck muses, half-impressed and half-exasperated. yukhei can only grin, taking in how the idol’s hair is mussed and uncombed, face puffy from sleep. the lollipop he bought from a dispenser in here has stained his lips a pretty cherry red and how yukhei can’t stop staring at them.

____

donghyuck is stunning in a way that demands attention. he’s just sitting down, legs crossed and cheek cupped in one hand, but yukhei can’t look away. even when he’s silent, his face is speaking for him, every expression an unintentional ploy to have everyone’s eyes on him and him alone. the lighting in the laundromat is shitty and dim but donghyuck’s skin is radiant, eyes twinkling with mischief and lips twisted in a boyish smirk, like he knows he’s reeled yukhei in with the bait he dangled right in front of his nose.

____

yukhei’s reminded of jeno, in that way. it’s one of the only things donghyuck has in common with his (former?) best friend. jeno likes to say he’s just a nerd, another plain face that fades into the background, but yukhei would beg to differ. with such sculpted, chiseled facial features, jeno garnered a lot more admirers in school than he thought he did, and yukhei is forever grateful that they weren’t in the same grade, because he certainly would have abandoned his studies in favor of mapping out the moles on jeno’s cheek or the exact shape of his ear in class.

____

but that’s where he and donghyuck diverge once more. yukhei doesn’t know if he’s ever met a person as assured with their outward appearance than his tiny traveling companion. jeno, on the other hand, has never accepted the fact that anyone in their right mind would find him remotely attractive. where jeno is ridiculously insecure and constantly needs reassurance, donghyuck is so confident in himself at times that it borders on narcissism.

____

that unfortunate aspect of jeno was evident when he called yukhei this morning. he’d said he was checking in, because he’s been busy with college prep work, but ended up ranting for a good five minutes about how difficult it all was and how jaemin isn’t done with school yet so he hasn’t been able to talk to him for _ages_ and oh yeah, haechan’s still missing so _fan-fucking-tastic_ —and yukhei cut him off there.

____

nothing’s changed since high school, it seems. jeno is still leeching off of his kindness, off of his generosity. yukhei still loves him, because they’re friends and friends put up with that kind of shit when their friends are struggling, but that’s all they are: friends.

____

and that was solidified by jeno’s phone call this morning. he was checking in, asking how things were going, and yukhei had told him everything, managing to leave donghyuck out of the picture even though he made up such a large part of it. their chatter had been light, reminiscent of the way things used to be. they’re friends, _best friends,_ ; that will never change, and yukhei’s come to realize that he doesn’t want it to.

____

it feels uplifting, finally being able to say that to himself. he doesn’t love jeno anymore, not like he used to, and it’s fucking wonderful. all it took was an orange-haired, 5 foot 8 firecracker of a boy to show up and pull yukhei’s head out of the clouds with his moxie, and his humor, and his never-wavering confidence.

____

that’s one of the things yukhei likes most about him; his certainty. donghyuck doesn’t seek out validation from others, he finds it within himself, and that’s all he needs. one would think that celebrities get a big head about these things, but donghyuck has proven that assumption wrong time and time again. he displays his darker skin like a badge of honor, uses his unique vocals to successfully charm the entire country. and at heart he’s still a gleeful child, who delights in gas station snacks and cooking simple meals and lollipops. he’s eager to learn and grow, and that’s a lot more than yukhei can say for most of the people in his life.

____

donghyuck is a breath of fresh air. his world is so different from yukhei’s, yet the idol never invalidates him for it; in fact, it hardly seems like there’s any difference between their lives at all. at the core, they’re both struggling to stay at the top in their respective fields, their heads barely above water as the hardships weigh them down. yukhei looks at donghyuck and underneath the self-reliant veneer he can tell that he’s scared and somber at times. within this young man is a kid that’s had to live in fear for months after threats upon his life, a kid that’s had to shoulder the rejection of one of his closest friends, a kid that’s had to leave his family behind to become a slave to an industry that’s whipped him into shape and given him barely any time to grow up.

____

yukhei looks at donghyuck and understands why jeno admires the idol so much—he sees what he can’t be in him.

____

“at this rate, you might wanna let a camera stare at me instead,” donghyuck pipes up. he looks defiant, but kind of bashful, all soft and rosy-cheeked. “that’s what the fansites do.”

____

“i’d be a pro fansite, then,” yukhei boasts, already pulling out his phone. he captures a photo of donghyuck mid-laugh, cherry mouth stretched wide over his gums. he gets the nickname _fullsun_ now, he realizes, as he looks down at the snapshot and smiles a little bit himself. “you know, i don’t know why i haven’t taken more pictures of you.”

____

“you were too busy having fun in the moment, because i’m just that interesting,” donghyuck says airily, stretching and cracking his back. his sweatshirt rides up, like it has before, but yukhei always finds himself glancing down at the taut, tanned skin there at his navel. apparently, his entire body is the same rich golden color.

____

“you’d look good in a crop top,” yukhei finds himself saying instead of agreeing with donghyuck’s previous statement (because it’s true, donghyuck has been distracting him from his phone as of late), and he immediately wants to dig a hole to jump into and never emerge from it.

____

donghyuck’s eyes widen at first, mouth puckering in an _o._ but the fucking _beam_ that grows on his face actually takes yukhei’s breath away (because _whatthefuckhowcansomeonebethisinhumanlygorgeous_ ). “i’ve actually tried to get my stylists to put me in some,” he confesses, sheepishly twisting his fingers together. “especially for this latest comeback. but, uh, they wouldn’t let me. said it looked too ’feminine’.”

____

“lies and slander,” yukhei declares loudly. the elderly couple using the machines closest to them look furious. donghyuck snickers. “i’m going to buy you a crop top one day, and your stylists will let you wear it or i’ll get my friend chenle to sue.”

____

he hasn’t really processed his words until donghyuck’s forehead creases and he scrutinizes yukhei and says, “one day?”

____

yukhei’s mouth is dry. he nods. “yup,” he says definitively. “one day.”

____

it feels like he’s just set something in stone, and donghyuck must feel it too, because he looks pleased with that answer, leaning back against the bench with a quirk to his lips.

____

yukhei intends to make good on that promise.

____

donghyuck, apparently, has never done laundry before, when they’re getting ready to put in another load and he can’t tell the difference between softener and detergent. “taeyong usually does it,” he grumbles, and yukhei doesn’t even know who taeyong is, but it’s proof that there’s something he can do that donghyuck can’t and that’s enough for him.

____

“watch and learn from the master, young grasshopper,” yukhei says in a poor imitation of some stereotypical hollywood depiction of a sensei. he pulls out the dry batch of clothes and dumps it in a messy pile in his suitcase. it’s a mix of his and donghyuck’s, and the color difference is drastic; donghyuck’s, while few in number, are all colors of the rainbow, and yukhei’s are mostly muted greys, browns, and whites. the clothes they wear are almost the exact opposite of their personalities.

____

“so you dump shit into shit. thanks for the lesson,” donghyuck deadpans.

____

yukhei places a hand on donghyuck’s waist. “i have yet to teach you the art of folding, grasshopper,” he rasps, and fuck, this impression is already killing his throat. the price he pays for laughter.

____

“stop talking like that, it sounds like i’m flirting with an old dude,” donghyuck whines, nudging yukhei in the side. “just show me how to fold clothes. _normally._ ”

____

“sorry, dialing humor down to 5 percent as we speak,” yukhei jokes, pretending to twist a knob on the side of his head and deflating after doing so. (he doesn’t know how he’s keeping his cool right now, because his brain is a jumbled mess of _rightokayhejustconfirmedthatwe’reflirtingsuddenlywe’rrenothavinganormalcnversationwhatdoi_ do _—_ which, in all honesty, is only slightly more frantic than his adhd-ridden brain usually is).

____

he teaches donghyuck how to roll socks and they sit side by side on the bench, suitcase at their feet, bending over to pick up various articles of clothing, regardless of what belongs to who for the time being. yukhei handles everything (even donghyuck’s underwear, which he folds without looking) while donghyuck just has to roll socks—but unfortunately, he sucks at rolling socks.

____

“you suck at rolling socks,” yukhei tells him, because hey, facts are facts, but the poorly-made sock ball thrown in his face is totally unnecessary.

____

what ensues is a brief sock ball war, and then the elderly couple threatens to get them kicked out, and yukhei has to hold donghyuck back lest he start squaring up someone’s grandparents and get them arrested in the middle of nowhere. so in short, it was a wild five minutes.

____

eventually, donghyuck gets the hang of it, and when the next load is done he starts folding other things with surprising accuracy (yukhei does have to stop him from folding shirts that are inside out a few times, though). they’re quiet for the most part, making up ridiculous dances to whatever the radio plays and occasionally grinning at one another, and it makes yukhei stupidly happy.

____

“you know, i’ve been wondering,” donghyuck says, when they’re trying to stuff all of yukhei’s clothes into his suitcase. “how did you know the dance, to, uh… That One Song?”

____

yukhei flushes. there really isn’t a way to coolly explain that his female celebrity crush since, like, forever sang a baek jiyoung song once, and he’s been a secret fan ever since. “i saw those guys from that one group perform it with the original singer on tv,” he replies, vaguely enough, and that’s kind of true, because he and his mom tuned in the night it aired. “the one with the hot blonde guy in the jacket. it’s not hard to remember.” yeah, because he’s watched that performance countless times (the blonde guy was _really_ hot, okay).

____

“ugh, i wanted to play that show _so bad,_ but johnny wouldn’t set it up,” donghyuck groans. “i was gonna make mark do it with me.”

____

“they recorded that two years ago, when you were, like, twelve,” yukhei points out, and the jab to his ribs is expected, but he lets it happen.

____

donghyuck’s really bad at pretending to be angry. it’s adorable and totally unthreatening, which is the opposite of what he’s going for. “i was _sixteen_ , jerk,” he sneers. “stop smiling at me like that.”

____

yukhei’s brow furrows, because he’s just smiling, he’s allowed to smile—oh, right. they’re flirting. you have to be coy and call people out like that.

____

“like what?” he asks, cocking his head. that’s a thing people say when they flirt, right?

____

apparently so, because donghyuck goes red in the face and tugs harder on the zipper of yukhei’s suitcase. “just—stop smiling,” he mutters. “never do it again.”

____

“that’s a tall order, considering i smile whenever i’m around you, but i’ll see what i can do.”

____

damn. _that was smooth, me,_ yukhei inwardly commends. _remaining brain cells: 1. donghyuck: 0._

____

“you are the worst and i am going to redirect this conversation to another topic,” donghyuck announces. “you have parents, right? tell me about them.”

____

and so yukhei does. at this point, it’s basic instinct to ramble on about how wonderful his mom is. donghyuck listens intently, and yukhei thinks that his mom would get along well with donghyuck. they’re both headstrong, confident, and some of the most fearless people yukhei has ever known.

____

in return, donghyuck tells him about johnny and taeyong, his parents away from parents. they sound like hardworking people, who care more about others than they do themselves, and it’s clear that donghyuck takes after them more than his real family. he lights up when he talks about them, 

____

“you’d like johnny,” he remarks. “you’re both total dorks disguised as muscle pigs.”

____

_and we’re both whipped for high-maintenance dancers,_ yukhei thinks, but he doesn’t say that out loud. “i’d like to meet them,” he says truthfully, because he really does want to see the people that made donghyuck what he is today.

____

“maybe you can, sometime,” donghyuck murmurs, suddenly very interested at picking at the strings on the end of his jeans.

____

all this talk of _one day_ and _sometime_ only makes it more glaringly obvious that their time together is coming to an end. yukhei doesn’t want it to, but reality is already starting to creep back in, and it could be months, even years, before they could be together like this again—if they even keep in touch.

____

it’s an irrational fear to have in this day and age, when the internet exists and lines of communication are so readily available. they’ve both made it clear that they want to see each other again, whenever possible, but there’s a difference between saying and doing and for all they know those _one day_ s and _sometime_ s could be empty words that they’ll forget ever uttering in about a week’s time.

____

those worries plague him until they arrive at the mechanic’s garage a few hours later, luggage in hand. the car is waiting for them, still looking like it’s on its last legs, but yukhei’s never been happier to see the silver-stained hunk of junk. even donghyuck looks relieved as he throws his bag in the backseat, feet already propped up on the dash.

____

if he looked like he belonged here on that first rainy morning, he looks like he fucking owns the car now. he looks at yukhei expectantly over the rims of his sunglasses, lips twisted into a blinding smile, and yukhei wants to make up for the lack of photos he’s taken with thousands of shots of this one frame.

____

“where to?” he inquires, even though he fed donghyuck the answer earlier. there’s still the slightest possibility that he wouldn’t want to, and yukhei wants to make it clear that there’s always been chances to back out.

____

donghyuck arches an eyebrow. “do you really have to ask?”

____

“mokpo it is, then,” yukhei grins, and kicks the car in gear.

____

that’s the thing: he knows donghyuck’s too fierce to back out of anything.

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donghyuck’s never been the most observant of people.

____

when it comes to subtle nuances in a person’s demeanor, he’s an expert. he senses whenever the mood in a room is off, and gets down to the bottom of it in minutes. his way of helping others cope is by making them feel more included, doing stupid things to make them smile, or putting himself in harm’s way if necessary. he lets his actions speak louder than his words, and it usually helps him out.

____

but when it comes to things right in front of his face, he falters. he fails to see the obvious, sometimes. he misses important details, preferring to skim over things and focus his attention onto one thing and one thing only. johnny complains about it constantly, but he’s resigned himself to having to scold donghyuck whenever he forgets things or doesn’t catch on quickly, and thus donghyuck has never fixed the habit.

____

so that’s why he can’t pinpoint exactly when someone starts following them.

____

he only feels the presence of someone else this morning, when he looks across the street from a cafe table in mokpo that he and yukhei are sitting at and catches a man in sunglasses turning away so fast he probably got a good case of whiplash. he brushes it off as an odd coincidence, though, and goes back to teasing a sleepy yukhei for almost letting his head slip off his palm and into his coffee.

____

the nagging feeling only grows when he drags yukhei into an antique bookstore later on. donghyuck’s perched precariously on a rolling ladder in the very back of this enormous shop, arm outstretched and tongue sticking out while yukhei hovers around below him, biting his nails down to nubs out of nerves.

____

he sees a figure out of the corner of his eye, lurking, and when he spares a glance, teetering on the ladder and nearly giving yukhei a heart attack, there’s nothing there.

____

it isn’t until he and yukhei are in a crowded mall, window shopping for the hell of it and kind of but not really holding hands, that he sees the first flash go off.

____

yukhei doesn’t notice but donghyuck stiffens, spine straightening like a frightened cat. “yukhei,” he murmurs. “i think we’ve been compromised.”

____

“ooo, spy talk. what’s the go signal, boss?” yukhei stage whispers. another flash goes off, closer this time. it’s from a different direction. the color drains from his face all at once, the goofy grin faltering. “fuck.”

____

“ _’fuck’_ is right,” donghyuck snarls. the flashes are increasing in frequency and number. people are starting to stare.

____

it happens gradually, as yukhei grabs donghyuck’s arm and leads him in the direction of the exit, but a mob grows behind them. there’s confused murmurs and a few shouts of donghyuck’s stage name. they haven’t solidified that it’s the real him yet. the realization puts a sour taste in donghyuck’s mouth. they’re following a potential everyday citizen around, just in the hopes of making a few headlines.

____

“just keep your head down, keep walking,” donghyuck hisses, because he’s done this a million times before, but usually johnny is beside him, whispering these commands into his ear.

____

he’s used to being mobbed. it happens at airports, at events, at stores. but there’s always been security around then, and as strong as yukhei is, donghyuck doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle this level of intensity.

____

because oh boy, can fans be intense. they scream, wail, burst into tears, reach out beyond the barriers and try to grab him. he hates drawing so much attention to himself this way, and making something simple like getting on or off a flight so difficult for other people there, but when his schedule is released to the public, there’s nothing he can do about it. johnny is responsible for making sure the security measures are in place, and that’s about all the prep they can put in. you never know who’s going to show up, whether it be peaceful fansites, international fans who aren’t used to seeing him, or saesangs that follow his every move.

____

it’s the same way now, except there aren’t any barriers to protect him— _them,_ donghyuck silently corrects, as yukhei’s grip on his hand tightens—and they are in no way prepared for this.

____

“almost there, almost there,” yukhei whispers, and whether he is trying to assure donghyuck or himself, donghyuck doesn’t know.

____

they’re crowding in on the sides now, jostling them. yukhei sticks out a hand and pushes back the people to his left, but donghyuck is being swamped on the right. the mall doors are in sight, and they quicken their pace to reach them—

____

and then donghyuck’s hand is wrenched from yukhei’s grip and he’s swept up into the fray like he’s nothing—but at the same time, he’s everything to these people, who shove their cameras and microphones in his face and scream and claw at his clothes and facemask until the black fabric is ripped and falls to the ground for some group of deranged fans to squabble over. his cheek feels like it’s been torn open, and for all he knows, it has been. donghyuck keeps his expression carefully blank but his eyes scan the crowd, pleading for someone, anyone to fucking _help him_ as he wrenches his arm out of someone’s grip, creating a tear up the sleeve of his baggy sweater.

____

yukhei fights his way to the center of it all as best as he can, shoving teenagers out of the way. a camera gets crushed under his foot. he rubs his heel in for good measure.

____

donghyuck grabs his arm and lets yukhei drag him forward, his other arm held hostage by this mob. they’re yelling all sorts of things, and they’re starting to encircle yukhei now, asking how long they’ve known each other or shouting expletives at him.

____

pain erupts in the socket of donghyuck’s arm as yukhei tugs one last time, but he keeps the whimper at bay and lets himself fall into yukhei’s chest. he frees his other arm and loops both arms through yukhei’s, and they’re running out the doors and down the street at breakneck speed.

____

the thumps of hundreds of soles on the concrete follow them wherever they turn, and donghyuck has the faint feeling that they might be lost. but he decides to put trust in yukhei’s judgement, because they’re down to second by second decisions at this point.

____

he can’t even make out their surroundings, that’s how fast they’re moving. the buildings and street signs blur together in a smattering of colors and sounds. he recognizes none of it, but the route yukhei’s taking is full of twists and turns and donghyuck soon realizes that he’s trying to throw the mob off their trail.

____

his lungs feel scratchy, like he’s sick, and there’s a stitch in his side that aches with every step. tears are trailing down his cheeks, mingling with blood, partly from the wind biting at his face and partly from the sheer _terror_ clutching at his heart, because in all the years of dealing with fans he’s never been fucking _mauled._

____

the ever-present taste of salt and copper is a constant reminder of the feeling of blunt, jagged nails digging into his skin, splitting it open. the torn sleeve of his sweater flutters wildly, and his sunglasses slip off his nose and are left on the ground somewhere along the run. he barely registers their absence.

____

yukhei is pushing people out of the way like a madman, and they yell frightening curses as the two of them thunder past. donghyuck just holds on tighter, tighter, until he’s probably cutting off circulation to yukhei’s arm, blinking furiously to clear his cloudy vision.

____

the screams and camera shutters have faded into the distance as they blend in with the bustling streets, forced to slow down. donghyuck sees familiar stores around and it hits him that the motel is only a few blocks away now, they can make it there in 10 minutes at this rate—

____

a shriek of _haechan!_ resounds amidst the throng behind them.

____

make that 5.

____

yukhei sets his jaw and they’re off again, barreling past passersby. the screams are getting louder, picking up in frequency, closing in, caving in like donghyuck’s respiratory system.

____

the tears keep coming.

____

they practically crash into the door of their motel room. yukhei scrabbles for the key, fingers shaking as he inserts it, and donghyuck struggles to pant beside him, listening as the sounds of the mob grow louder, like a stampede in the serengeti.

____

then he’s falling through the open doorway and onto the floor and yukhei is slamming the door shut behind them, locking it tight. the carpet is rough beneath his fingers but donghyuck presses his forehead against it, scrunching his eyes shut, and retches.

____

wordlessly, yukhei hauls him up by the waist and leads him towards the bathroom. donghyuck almost collapses then and there, legs shaky and body boneless, but he holds out until the toilet is in front of him and he’s on his knees, vomiting into its waiting maw.

____

he heaves until there’s nothing left, but his chest still wracks with hiccups, acid reflux acting up with nothing left to spill. it’s disgusting, and embarrassing, but he rests his forehead against the cool toilet seat and lets yukhei flush away his sick.

____

there’s the sound of running water, and then a firm hand is on his shoulder. “sit up, hyuck,” yukhei says softly, kneeling down in front of him, and donghyuck tries his best to obey.

____

a wet cloth is in yukhei’s hand. he presses it to donghyuck’s feverish forehead first, then trails down to the shallow cut on his cheek. he wipes off the blood, tears, sweat, and snot, not once cracking a joke, or shaming him for being so pathetic. instead, he’s tender, delicate, his other hand barely cupping donghyuck’s neck as if he’ll crumble underneath yukhei’s touch.

____

once his face is clean, yukhei sets the cloth aside. he sits back against the wall and watches, eyes glistening, as donghyuck breaks down.

____

it feels pathetic. he hasn’t had a full-fledged fit (he refuses to call them _panic attacks,_ the chart-topping, heart-stopping persona lee haechan doesn’t have _anxiety attacks_ ) like this one since the day before he debuted.

____

but donghyuck doesn’t want him so far away. he scoots forward until he’s in yukhei’s personal space, tentative arms reaching out, and then yukhei is pulling him forward into a fierce embrace.

____

donghyuck is still gasping for air, diaphragm fluttering and failing to take in oxygen, and his throat is tighter than a hose tied in a knot. “i can’t breathe, hyung,” he stammers, “i can’t _breathe—_ ”

____

“hey, hey hey hey,” yukhei murmurs. “hyung is here, alright? it’s you, and me,” he soothes, hand rubbing up and down donghyuck’s damp back in a rare display of maturity—and then he ruins it by mumbling _“moving at the speed of light into eternity, yeah,”_ in english under his breath.

____

“ _hyung,_ ” donghyuck whines, laughing wetly a little more in spite of himself, and he burrows further into yukhei’s shoulder (he rubs his snotty nose against the fabric of his sweater, because it’s what he deserves after that awful song reference).

____

yukhei’s chuckle reverberates against donghyuck’s cheek. “sorry, sorry.” he doesn’t sound apologetic in the slightest, but he’s cradling the back of donghyuck’s head in one hand and is still massaging his back with the other, all with donghyuck in his lap, so he gets a pass. “hyung was being lame, as usual.”

____

there’s something oddly comforting hearing yukhei refer to himself as _hyung._ donghyuck reserves the honorific for johnny, taeyong, and mark exclusively—the people who guide him, calm him, the people that demand that sort of respect without actually demanding it. he resents being younger than his friends, sometimes, too used to being the eldest sibling back in jeju. and yukhei, while he may be older by a year, has seemed like nothing but a friend from donghyuck’s own year that he can fuck around with. it’s a dynamic he hasn’t had with someone else in a long time.

____

but right now, it provides familiarity and warmth. donghyuck imagines johnny’s lisp and taeyong’s dulcet tones lulling him into a dreamy state, lifting him out of the onslaught of nerves and raw, primal fear. yukhei speaks softly and so naturally that it suggests he’s comforted someone like this before, and that puts donghyuck at ease—because yukhei could have left him here by himself and let him sort it out on his own, which would have worked after many, many hours—but no, yukhei shut himself in here _with him,_ and that alone makes him feel the tiniest bit better.

____

yukhei’s way of helping others cope is by doing things hands-on. he’s a cuddler too, if the way he’s welcomed donghyuck’s clinginess in bed the last two nights is any indication, and he projects that into how he’s comforting donghyuck now, letting him absorb the endless warmth he has to offer. where donghyuck is subtle yukhei is upfront, pressing light kisses to donghyuck’s matted hair and tangling their fingers together.

____

donghyuck pulls back and stares at him, knowing he must look like a wreck, but yukhei’s gaze is nothing but fond, a little bit of wonder there as he swipes his thumb underneath the puffy swell of donghyuck’s undereyes.

____

he really is beautiful, and if he weren’t so mindful and if donghyuck weren’t so emotionally distraught (and if his mouth didn’t taste like ass) perhaps he could finally close the gap between their lips. it’s killing him not to stare into those dark brown eyes for longer than five seconds, especially when yukhei keeps them trained on him, carding through donghyuck’s hair with his long fingers and making him feel drowsy.

____

“’m sleepy,” he murmurs, head lolling to one side.

____

“then sleep,” yukhei murmurs. “i’m kinda worn out myself. we can rest up here today.”

____

“didn’t you wanna leave tonight, though?” donghyuck slurs. the crook of yukhei’s neck looks very comfortable to his dazed brain so he nuzzles in there, nose against hot, sweet-scented skin.

____

“sunshine,” yukhei starts, and he plants his lips firmly on the top of donghyuck’s head, “we’ve got all the time in the world.”

____

there isn’t anything donghyuck has ever wanted to believe more.

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donghyuck is ten times less annoying when he’s asleep.

____

it’s nice because he sleeps a _lot,_ yukhei’s noticed. a good chunk of their car rides consist of donghyuck dozing off, either curled up in the backseat or knocked out against the passenger’s side window, feet up on the dash. the bags that were so prominent under his eyes when they first met are starting to disappear, replaced with a glow appropriate for his age. he looks more like the _Nation’s Little Brother_ that jeno rants and raves about.

____

when donghyuck sleeps, his face evens out and his lips jut out as small breaths expel in intervals. yukhei finds himself glancing over, a lot more than he should, and that scares him.

____

it scares him because he can’t shake the thoughts of those cameras, going off like gunshots at every angle and blinding him. he can’t forget the screams, the sea of hands grabbing at their arms and yelling in their faces. he can’t forget the wetness shining on donghyuck’s cheeks in the bathroom as they sat there in the dim light, waiting for the storm to blow over.

____

it scares him because donghyuck’s life was like this, _is_ like this. yukhei doesn’t belong in it.

____

the idol world wasn’t crafted for people like them. you can stand in front of a hall of people and preach equality and how important it is to fight for it, but here, nothing ever changes. boys walk past each other on eggshells behind the scenes, while under the lights, their blossoming sexualities are used to attract tween girls. for the taboo of it all. if donghyuck were to try to come out, he’d be made more of a public spectacle than he already is, paraded around and lusted after for the taboo of it all.

____

and yukhei, as a bisexual, adhd-ridden, awkward yet loud mess of a college student, would surely be shunned from ever enjoying the pristine and polished idol lifestyle. he’s too expressive, too out there, too easily distracted, not to mention his obvious lack of technical abilities in singing and dancing. everything about him is designed to be the complete antithesis to donghyuck’s perfect image.

____

yet at the same time, when he thinks of how donghyuck let that perfect image crumble, burying his head into yukhei’s shoulder and dry-heaving against him, hiccuping with tears and withheld vomit, it sparks the thought that maybe, just maybe, he does have a role to play.

____

yukhei’s never really had to try all that hard to get people to open up to him. his mom says that he has one of those faces; a kind, inviting smile that draws you in. for the most part, donghyuck has done just that—but when it came to the more nitty gritty details about his fame, he’s clammed up.

____

however, after seeing the horrors of yesterday, and finally watching donghyuck unravel as a result, yukhei can see why he puts up the defenses that he does. for the better half of a lifetime, donghyuck has been molded to near perfection, but there are still those who try to poke holes in the veneer. they follow him, take pictures of him at every opportunity, go insane with obsessive emotions they mistakenly call _love._ it’s disgusting, and it shouldn’t be normalized, but it _is_ , and donghyuck can’t do a thing about it.

____

these thoughts weigh on yukhei’s mind and make it hard to focus on actually driving. it just bothers him that donghyuck has resigned himself to this. he’s given up more than just a normal childhood; he’s also sacrificed the chance at living a private life. all to live his dream.

____

that’s just the way of life for idols. yukhei won’t ever understand it. but that’s the thing: he doesn’t need to. donghyuck doesn’t need someone who’s lived the same life he has—he needs someone different, someone new, a breath of fresh air in his otherwise polluted life. and yukhei can be that person, if donghyuck will let him.

____

and yukhei _wants_ to be that person. he wants to mean something to donghyuck, wants to be something more than just a piece of some fond memories he occasionally looks back on. he wants to be present in donghyuck’s life, even if that presence isn’t always physical. these wants are hard to form into words, though, and for all he knows, they might come off as a bit extreme.

____

(but then again, both him and donghyuck are pretty extreme.)

____

speaking of extreme, the lengths netizens have gone through to try and get his personal information is truly astounding. no one has uncovered his name just yet, and yukhei hopes nobody does, but with his face trending online, it won’t be too hard.

____

some fans think they’re together. others think yukhei’s a kidnapper. some say this is all an elaborate pr stunt. most of them want their precious haechan to come back safe and sound, and that’ll be enough for them.

____

and a select few want yukhei dead.

____

he knows the capabilities of these people. they can uncover almost anything. it’s a matter of time before someone from high school uploads a picture of his yearbook photo and his name is gracing the home page of every news site. he’s seen it happen, seen relationships—romantic or friendly, it doesn’t matter—torn to shreds by the harshness of this industry. they sink their claws into whatever juicy piece of gossip they can get, chewing and spitting until the finished product is a slanderous claim that spreads through the media like wildfire.

____

at least, that’s what he’s learned from the disney channel original movie _starstruck._

____

it’s impossible to act like he can maintain any anonymity when there’s a slew of texts on his phone, all of which he’s carefully ignored. there’s one from his mother: _’you’re on the news?’_ ; one from jeno that he’s ignoring: _’???’_ ; one from kun: _’yeah hi what the FUCK is going on?’_ , and even one from jaehyun: _’niiice going dude, sichengie says the guy’s famous or whatever so get that clouuut_ _’_.

____

but the most irritating one of all is also his most recent, from jungwoo: a simple, scathing _’told you so.’_

____

donghyuck doesn’t know about any of this just yet, and yukhei isn’t sure he wants to break it to him. the idol’s already been blaming himself enough, he doesn’t need this to add onto it. and besides, the whole thing is kinda cool. the last time yukhei received this much recognition was when a photo of him face-planting the ground ended up in a photo spread in his college campus’ newspaper, so. you could say that this is a step up.

____

unfortunately, yukhei’s opinion on the whole situation isn’t all that relevant. donghyuck’s take on all of this is definitely more important, and above that—the opinion of his management.

____

what little yukhei knows of johnny seo and sm entertainment directly contradict each other. from what donghyuck has told him, johnny is paternal, incredibly understanding, and wants to obtain the most ideal options for everyone that he can. sm, on the other hand, is careless, refuses to hear the other side of an argument, and only wants what’s best for their financial status. and while yukhei understands both the personal and business aspects of these two vastly different facets of donghyuck’s life, he can’t help but hope that however johnny chooses to deal with this “scandal” will win out.

____

at the moment, however, yukhei is a threat—both to johnny and sm. no one knows who he is, or where he came from. he really _could_ have kidnapped donghyuck, for all they know. what they do know is that yukhei’s been seen with him, and that’s automatically a cause for suspicion. he’s a target.

____

and that’s kind of terrifying.

____

outside, the weather reflects his mood. it’s nice enough, but it’s offset by the darker clouds looming in the distance. surrounding each side of the car are fluorescent green fields of towering grass, fields yukhei recognizes as the ones near andong. they’re traveling along the exact same road he’d taken that day when donghyuck first joined him, when they had no idea where the opposite side of this road would take them.

____

yukhei rolls the window down, letting the wind rush in and ruffle the sliver of his bangs peeking out from underneath the hat he has on, a _balenciaga_ snapback of donghyuck’s that he had brought along but hadn’t used (it’s a little snug on yukhei’s head, even at the loosest snap, but it’s big enough for the brim of it to cast a shadow over his face so he decided not to complain). he leaves one hand on the wheel and rests the other on the open window, occasionally stretching out his fingers and letting the breeze dance along them. donghyuck’s phone, plugged into the aux cord, is playing light, folky tunes over the fuzzy car speakers.

____

said phone is laying in donghyuck’s lap, loosely clenched in one of his sweater paw-clad hands. he’s wearing one of his many hoodies with the hood pulled up, a green and yellow one that complements his orange-ish hair nicely. his head is dangerously close to hitting the window, body slumping to the side, and he’s even snoring a little, slightly muffled by the face mask covering his nose and mouth. it’s kind of adorable.

____

they don’t plan on doing anything big and extravagant today, even though it’s their last full day together. yukhei’s just about broke, and even donghyuck admitted that he didn’t want to take too much off his card before he has to pay it back. they’d agreed that it was for the best to not get out of the car much anyways, after the disaster that was yesterday; yukhei had carried donghyuck to bed in the early afternoon, and busied himself with refreshing his browser over and over again. slowly, the gossip articles started to trickle in, one after the other until everyone and their mother surely knew that haechan was traversing the country with a dark, handsome stranger (maybe yukhei added in the dark and handsome part, but you get the gist).

____

along with the snapback, yukhei has on some sunglasses, a pair he’d dug out of his glove box, to complete the look of anonymity. in truth, the getup only serves to make them look more suspicious, but yukhei keeps silent about this too and instead appreciates how the glare of the setting sun against his windshield is much less harsh with the accessories on.

____

even though the sky is growing ominously darker in the distance, the sun is baking. yukhei hisses when his fingers accidentally touch the scorching hot metal of the car door. the ac is trying its best at full blast, but it keeps sputtering and blowing less and less air with every minute. yukhei’s brain feels like it’s sloshing around in his skull as he bobs his head in time to the music, and right now, there’s only one cure he can think of: a milkshake.

____

donghyuck, conveniently enough, stirs just as he’s pulling into the old, deserted gas station, the one with the sign hanging from its awning that completes a sort of rustic 80s-esque look only places in the korean countryside can achieve. “woah, deja vu much?” he jokes, removing his hoodie and running a hand through his frizzled hair. he rubs at his eyes with his sweater paw-clad fist.

____

“thought we could both use a treat,” yukhei says. he’s well aware he’s staring, a soft, dazed sort of grin on his face as donghyuck yawns adorably, the bridge of his nose scrunching up, but can’t bring himself to stop. “’s on me.”

____

it looks like he’s still having trouble conveying any other facial expressions apart from _absolutely, wholly, unbelievably exhausted,_ but donghyuck still manages to pout (at least, yukhei thinks so; it’s kind of hard to tell when he pulls up his mask). “at least let me pay for mine,” he protests weakly. “you don’t need to blow all your cash.”

____

yukhei opens the car door and smiles to himself. he’d anticipated this sort of reaction.

____

“who says i’m buying two?”

____

he walks across the street to the ice cream place first, because his stomach has been growling for something, _anything_ to fill it for the better half of two hours. the sound of donghyuck’s sandals clacking against the concrete reverberates in the air, as he takes three or four steps to match one of yukhei’s large strides. he latches himself to yukhei’s arm, simultaneously slowing him down and distracting him from his hunger, if even for the briefest of moments.

____

even though he’ll yell enthusiastically at anyone willing or unwilling to listen about his unbridled love for chocolate, yukhei buys a vanilla milkshake, because donghyuck has bland taste, apparently. the older woman behind the counter raises a judgemental eyebrow when yukhei asks for a second straw, but she practically throws one at him anyways and slides the window to the small building with a _snap._

____

“bitch,” donghyuck mutters. he pulls his mask down as they’re walking in the direction of the gas station, and yukhei would be staring at him anyway, but in particular he’s staring at the angry red scratch on donghyuck’s cheek—a battle scar from yesterday’s mob, a mark akin to yukhei’s in that it will serve as a reminder of this week when it’s over.

____

yukhei switches the milkshake cup to his other hand and reaches out to touch it. donghyuck’s back stiffens, the tension spreading through every limb, before his entire body deflates with a breath. “how does it feel?” yukhei asks him.

____

“fine,” he says tightly, trying to convince him with a smile. but it’s pinched at the corners, and his eyes are full of strain. they’re small details not many would notice, but yukhei recognizes them in an instant—after all, he’s seen the same expressions for years, staring back at him in the mirror.

____

there’s no time like the present to break the news, yukhei supposes as he says, “photos of us are all over the news. my friends and family are blowing up my messages.”

____

it has the presumed reaction: donghyuck blanches, coughing up ice cream. yukhei rubs his back until he finds the voice to whisper, hoarsely, “i’m so fucking sorry, yukhei, i—you were never meant to get roped into this—”

____

“if anything, _i_ roped myself into this,” yukhei interrupts, and he moves his hand up to the base of donghyuck’s neck, fingers massaging soft circles into the tanned skin. “i’m more concerned about _you_. this is the first time you’ve been seen in public in almost a week; people thought you were _dead_.”

____

donghyuck throws his head back at that, a groan escaping his lips. “johnny’s gonna kill me,” he whines, and his head rebounds as he buries his face in his knees.

____

“you should call him, then,” yukhei suggests, taking a short sip of quickly melting milkshake. “so you don’t just drop in unannounced.”

____

donghyuck turns his head, so his cheek is squished against his thigh. “isn’t it too late for that?” he points out. “what if he gets _more_ mad at the fact that i waited this long to say anything?”

____

“trust me, i think he’d appreciate knowing that you’re still alive and safe, rather than not knowing that at all,” yukhei tells him. “i can’t guarantee that he won’t be mad, but at the moment he has no idea whether you’ll turn up tomorrow or six months from now.”

____

“i don’t like it when you’re sensible,” donghyuck grumbles, but there’s an appreciative quirk to his lips as he straightens up. “but i’ll think about it.”

____

a silent understanding passes through them, warm and pleasant in the pit of yukhei’s stomach. donghyuck leans over and wraps his lips around the straw yukhei extends to him. the heat is roasting, but it’s nothing compared to the fire burning in his belly, ignited by the sight up donghyuck looking up at him through his lashes with an innocent expression, like he doesn’t know damn well what he’s doing.

____

“i ran away from home once, you know,” yukhei pipes up, seemingly to break the silence but more to distract himself from… _those_ thoughts. “well, more like i kind of just left the house for a few hours and came back to see the police outside of our old apartment complex. he can sort of chuckle at the memory now, as traumatizing as it was back then.

____

“i would be alone after school for hours because my mom worked two jobs, back to back,” he continues, feeling the weight of donghyuck’s inquisitive gaze boring into the side of his face as he fixes his eyes to the cracked concrete. “she would come and pick me up around eight pm to take me to her job at the convenience store until around midnight. when we couldn’t walk, we’d take the bus everywhere.”

____

he spares a glance at donghyuck, who looks surprised and sympathetic. sure, donghyuck wasn’t born into the crazy, black card-having wealth he has now, but even in his poorest days, he was never at the level of impoverished as yukhei and his mother used to be. if he was any younger, he might have been embarrassed by that, but he’s more prideful of it now. they made the best of what they had, and his mother’s hard work got them where they are today. yukhei tries his best to take after her in that regard.

____

he keeps going: “but, uh, one day some of my friends invited me to play basketball with them in this park near our apartment complex. i’d been avoiding all of their previous invitations, because i knew my mom wouldn’t like it, but the park was so close that i convinced myself that i’d be home in time.

____

“i packed a bag with some snacks, water and a jacket because i heard it was going to rain later. i didn’t leave my mom a note or anything. and i guess i just got carried away. it started pouring and then my friend’s mom came to pick the rest of my friends off but i refused to let them take me, because i didn’t want them to know where i lived.

____

“i almost got lost a few times. by the time i got back, it was almost 9, and the cops were outside with my mom. she was crying on the front steps. i thought she’d be furious with me but she just cried, and held me close, and apologized over and over to the policemen who scolded _her_ , of all people, for not taking care of her kid. when it was my fault.”

____

donghyuck’s hand has found its way to his, cold and clammy from holding the now-finished milkshake. he lays his head on yukhei’s shoulder, hair tickling the side of his face. it’s comforting and warm, and yukhei slowly tilts his own head to rest atop donghyuck’s. “she almost got fired from her job because of me,” he continues quietly. “that scared me more than anything. because she worked so hard to send me to school, and give me food to eat and a bed to sleep in and a roof over my head. she did none of it for herself; it was all for me. and i almost ruined it all.”

____

there’s a momentary silence. “fuck,” donghyuck sighs, and yukhei can’t help but snort, because _fuck_ is right. “shut up, i don’t talk to people about feelings and shit,” he whines. his voice reverberates against yukhei’s neck as he speaks.

____

“clearly,” yukhei teases, and sure, maybe he deserves the elbow to the stomach, but he doesn’t fight back. instead, he snuggles his head against donghyuck’s, reveling in the disgruntled _hey!_ he gets in return. “c’mon, let’s get moving before that lady calls the cops on us.”

____

“i’d like to see her try,” donghyuck snaps, sneering in the direction of the ice cream shop as yukhei hauls him up to his feet. he’s so small, even more so when he’s engulfed in a baggy hoodie like this, yet he’s so indignant and bold. yukhei has to practically drag him to the direction of the car. “i could sue her ass just for laying a finger on me.”

____

“down, sunshine,” yukhei jokes, and revels in the ruddy flush that overcomes donghyuck’s entire face. it’s far too easy to reduce the fiery, expressive donghyuck to a puddle of mush. “normally i’m all for punching homophobes, but we’ve got places to be and jail cells to not occupy.”

____

reluctantly, donghyuck obeys, following yukhei to the car but not without slamming his door so loud they can hear the lady curse at them. “god, it feels so good to do what i want without it being a fucking free show,” he sighs, kicking his adidas-clad feet up onto the dash. “i can piss people off and none of it comes back to haunt me. god, i’d be living the fucking dream if i could do that all day.”

____

at this point, yukhei knows enough about the challenges donghyuck has to face that he feels little need to ask questions. still: “is that why you left?” he asks, quietly, observing donghyuck’s face for a reaction. it doesn’t come, because he’s calculated. yukhei hates that that calculatedness has come from his industry, is a result of the thousands of eyes on him at all times. any crack in his facade, any mistake he makes, is monitored and analyzed and the talk of gossip for weeks. and once he comes back from this, who’s to say that there will be a career left for him to come back to?

____

donghyuck is silent for a moment, jaw clenched. “i’ve never had control over my life, and johnny definitely had a part in that.” another long pause. then, “but i’ll think about it,” he says quietly. “calling.”

____

donghyuck isn’t annoying, yukhei thinks to himself as he starts the car up again and the idol almost immediately passes out once more. he never really has been (well, maybe at the beginning of things). sure, he’s a little overbearing at times, and gets snippy and incendiary and _beautiful_ , but it comes as a result of hiding his true self behind a screen. even his name is a secret to the general public. he’s a broken mirror, scattered into millions of pieces with millions of stories to tell and secrets to share.

____

and yukhei owes it to him to accept each and every shard.

__  
__

__🛣_ _

____

  


____

__  
_   
_

there’s an odd feeling in the air when they stand in front of the door to their last motel room.

____

objectively, it’s nicer than the ones before. the door is made of polished wood, with a shiny brass knob and a matching number. yukhei unlocks it and there’s two beds inside, a luxury that would have been welcomed just a few nights ago, but tonight that second bed will go unused.

____

donghyuck sets his bag on the spare bed anyways, since they may as well use it somehow. yukhei follows suit with his suitcase. it’s a small gesture, but donghyuck likes how they don’t have to communicate those kind of things verbally to one another anymore. they understand the other’s need to be close.

____

a speckled green paint covers the walls. donghyuck traces his fingers along the pattern. on the patchy, low rise coffee table is a garish stained glass bowl, filled with golden candies wrapped in plastic bows. yukhei takes a handful immediately.

____

there’s an old-school handset phone hooked up on the nightstand between the beds. donghyuck eyes it and comes to a decision.

____

“i think i’m gonna make a call."

____

yukhei looks proud. he places a delicate hand on the small of donghyuck’s back. “i’ll step out,” he offers, and doesn’t wait for a response before exiting.

____

donghyuck sits on the edge of the spare bed and reaches for the receiver, dialing with ease. he memorized this number years ago, and has never forgotten it, even though the phone he left back in the company building has it on speed dial.

____

the phone rings. and rings. donghyuck waits. and waits.

____

_“hi, you’ve reached seo youngho,”_ chirps johnny’s voice, crackly on the other line. _“i’m currently unavailable at the moment. if necessary, please leave a message after the tone.”_

____

it’s ridiculously formal, and donghyuck is mid-snort when the beep goes off. “you need to work on that voicemail, hyung,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

____

he can make out yukhei’s broad frame through the veil of the mildewy motel curtains. he’s standing stiffly, his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth with his chin up towards the sky.

____

donghyuck takes a deep breath in. “anyways, i just wanted to call you. let you know that i’m not dead or kidnapped or whatever. i swear. i should be back tomorrow; we’ll talk then.

____

“i miss you, hyung,” he continues quietly, and in that moment, he has no idea which of the three he’s speaking to. “i’m sorry.”

____

he sets the phone back down into the receiver. for a moment, he relishes in the silence. then his eyes focus back on the window.

____

yukhei’s pacing back and forth now, scuffing his feet on the concrete patio so loudly donghyuck can hear it from inside. he’s whistling, a low, haunting sound.

____

the door creaks open as donghyuck steps out, and yukhei turns to face him. “you okay?” he asks softly.

____

“i should be asking _you_ that question,” donghyuck counters. “but i’m fine. he didn’t pick up, but i left a message. it still made me feel better.”

____

“that’s good to hear, hyuck. i’m feeling better too, i think.” his face scrunches up as he thinks. “you know that thing i said i’d talk to you about when i was ready?” donghyuck nods. “well… i’m ready to talk about it now.”

____

yukhei has his own story to tell. it starts with a foreign boy, fresh off the plane from hong kong to korea, with barely any experience in the korean language and a barrage of worries. the foreigner’s mother soothes him in the middle of their unpacked kitchen, boxes all around, and tells him that everything is going to be alright.

____

the next few days pass in a blur for the boy, in a haze of unpacking and redecorating. he hardly leaves the house, afraid of facing the language he doesn’t understand, and focuses on learning korean in his spare time, trying to glean as much as possible before school begins in the fall. at least once every day he sits, hunched over the new desk his mother helped him construct, leafing through page after page of hangul, writing and rewriting and listening to the cds his mother checked out at the library.

____

it’s while he’s slumped over the desk, drooling over a workbook while the sun beats down on him through the window, that the foreigner hears the sound of laughter from outside.

____

his curiosity gets the best of him, and when he takes a peek at his front yard there are three younger boys with water guns, aiming them at each other and running around. one of them is screeching at the top of his lungs, and the foreigner can’t help but feel a little jealous, watching them furtively from behind the curtains like this.

____

then one of them glances up, squinting from the sunlight, and the foreigner freezes in place when the kid points directly at him.

____

he waves, awkwardly so, as two of the boys wave enthusiastically back. one of them, a bleach blonde, taps the remaining boy on the back furiously. when the boy turns around he has dark, dark hair, prominent bone structure, and soft-looking lips that curve up into a smile, eyes disappearing as he waves shyly.

____

the foreigner’s breath catches in his throat.

____

the rest of the summer is a whirlwind of late night water balloon fights and sleepovers. the foreigner does what he does best; wheedles his way into the trio like he’s been there all along. sometimes he feels left out, like when they recall old memories, or talk about people from school that the foreigner doesn’t know, or when they talk so fast that he can’t understand a word they say. but he plasters on a smile no matter what, keeps them laughing whenever he’s around to make up for the fact that he can’t engage them in anything beyond shallow conversation.

____

his finds his eyes drifting to the dark-haired boy more than he wants them to. the other two younger boys are loud and always have to have the spotlight on them, while the dark-haired one is quiet, more comforted by being in the shadows. but that nature only makes the foreigner more intrigued (a trait which, he finds out later, will also intrigue half the female student population).

____

he doesn’t know how to feel at first, because the dark-haired boy is, well, _a boy._ but after a teary conversation with his mother one evening (spurred by a particularly interesting pop-up on the family computer), he’s able to accept that what he feels is normal. and okay.

____

summer ends and the foreigner is tackling high school alone, with his newfound friends at the middle school nearby. he stays quiet in class for the most part but is polite whenever he exchanges pleasantries. he tells his friends that he’s waiting until he’s acclimatized before putting himself out there.

____

_“just wait until i get there with you, hyung!”_ the dark-haired boy chirps as they’re raking leaves outside in the foreigner’s yard (not to clean up, but to have giant piles perfect for jumping into). he’s bundled up in a jacket, the royal purple of the velvet and the pitch black of his hair blending nicely with the red, orange, and yellow of fall. he looks like a prince, from the windswept hair to the redness of his cheeks and nose thanks to the biting chill. the foreigner files this moment away for safekeeping. _“i’ll make sure you aren’t lonely!”_

____

but of course _that_ goes—as most things do—not at all the way the foreigner had planned. when his second year rolls around and the dark-haired boy is starting his first, the latter instantly gets swept up into high school stardom. according to the girls, he’s got it all—the looks, the smarts, and the talent. the foreigner more than agrees.

____

the dark-haired boy is stupidly humble though, with a dash of insecurity thrown in. he thinks of himself as a nerdy nobody, who isn’t worthy of anyone’s attention. all he ever does is study, working himself to death to make his family of medical professionals proud. the foreigner knows his friend doesn’t want that future for himself, but he says nothing about it.

____

rather than finding himself a partner, of which he could have the choice of many, the foreigner chooses instead to waste away in silence, as the dark-haired boy slowly matures. he makes a friend online, one who likes the same celebrity as he does, and he starts dropping that friend’s name more and more often in every conversation with the foreigner, until it becomes the only thing he talks about. the foreigner listens, like he always does, but he feels a pang in his chest every time the dark-haired boy lights up with a smile that’s because of someone else.

____

one year passes like this, then two, then the foreigner is accepting a diploma and he’s _free,_ free from piles of homework and breakdowns late at night, and headed off to college, where there’s… more piles of homework and breakdowns every hour. nevertheless, he’s excited, and ready to move to a different country.

____

it wasn’t a choice the foreigner made overnight. he started thinking of it in his third year, when the possibility of becoming an exchange student was presented to him. his english was lacking, but he took it upon himself to begin learning on his own, along with the help of his korean-american stepfather.

____

he doesn’t break the news to his friends until the day of graduation, after they come running up to congratulate him and are climbing into his car to get celebratory hot pot. the two youngest cry, hugging the foreigner fiercely like he’s leaving the next day instead of two months from now. the dark-haired boy just stands to the side; stone-faced, conflicted.

____

the foreigner has all summer to tell him how he feels. but every time the dark-haired boy is around he freezes up, lets his insecurities get the best of him. the dark-haired boy never notices, as per usual, but the foreigner gets his hopes up.

____

he feels sort of like an outsider again. the dark-haired boy starts spending time with the two youngest without the foreigner around, as if he’s already gone. whenever the foreigner speaks to them his mind jumps from one language to the next, until his speech is garbled and irritating even to his own ears.

____

he leaves for the airport on a brisk august evening, hardly any energy left save the dregs of the high from his going-away party. the dark-haired boy had been as reticent as ever, avoiding all physical and as little verbal contact as possible. it leads to the foreigner letting the hopeless romantic buried deep inside of him to get his hopes up; because maybe, just maybe, the dark-haired boy loves him back. maybe saying goodbye is too painful for him, just as it is for the foreigner, because they’re in love.

____

that hope leads to an awkward voicemail he leaves in the dark-haired boy’s inbox when he’s in the car that night, about to board his flight. his mother, who had driven him here, waits outside while he leaves a shaky confession, an unsure _“i love you and i just had to let you know.”_ he looks at her as he gets out and she understands without words, squeezing his hand tightly.

____

he lets it fall to the wayside as he waits in the terminal, mother leaving to the car after a prolonged goodbye. his friends had thrown him a going-away party the day before, and he didn’t expect any of them to be busy today. but as the foreigner thinks about it, he supposes it was better that he didn’t have to speak to the dark-haired boy, and get a harsh rejection then and there—or worse freeze up again and never say anything at all.

____

but of course the rejection comes anyways, in the form of another voicemail that the foreigner receives as soon as he touches down in sunny california:

____

_“hey, i, uh, just listened to your message. i was out with the kids, so. i’m sorry for not picking up because i probably made you feel even worse about this whole thing and—i’m just sorry, i guess. and i—i feel even worse because—god you must know where this is going—i don’t—i don’t get it. why you’d be interested in me, of all people. i’m boring, everyone says so, i’m not particularly special or interesting, or—or even half as amazing as you are. but what’s worse is that—is that i don’t know why i can see you, i can see how objectively kind and sweet and handsome and _everything amazing_ that you are, and not feel something that i should be feeling. fuck, i’m—i’m rambling and making this _worse,_ i— i should go. i hope—i hope you had a safe flight, xuxi. sleep well.”_

____

the airport bathroom is cold, the floor even colder, but the foreigner sinks down, eyes pressed so harshly into his palms that it’s painful. tears cascade down his cheeks despite his attempt to stop them. the words of the voicemail echo harshly in his ears until he has a pounding headache.

____

college begins and the foreigner forces himself to put it behind him. he throws himself into studying and getting work done from the get go, only really using his phone to make notes to himself or to call his mother every so often and update her. he finds another roommate to replace the one he was assigned to, and moves into their apartment. he makes some fantastic friends, and gets out a little more, but despite their encouragements he never goes home with someone, never flirts with that one cute girl who smiles at him whenever he passes her at the campus library or the handsome barista who always holds his fingers when handing over his drink for just a little too long.

____

by the end of november, three months after the confession, there’s so much he could say to update the dark-haired boy. unfortunately, nothing comes to mind when the foreigner absentmindedly picks up his incessantly ringing phone only to hear his voice.

____

the exchange of apologies that follows is awkward, and stunted, but the dark-haired boy’s sincerity shines through, and the foreigner finds it hard to be mad at him. they forgive each other in the end, and he supposes that it won’t be so hard to conceal his feelings this time. after all, he’d done it successfully for four whole years.

____

“but what was there to be mad about, really?” yukhei shrugs. “i can’t control who people love. and i know he’s still upset with me for leaving right away the second i came back home, because he felt like it was his fault. but i don’t know what to do about that.”

____

“oh, yukhei,” donghyuck murmurs. he slotted his hand with yukhei’s a few minutes ago, meeting in the middle of the railing closing off their balcony from the two-story drop below, but he squeezes. lets him know he’s here. “thanks for telling me. you didn’t have to.”

____

“i wanted to, though,” he says honestly. he looks up at donghyuck, dark, dark eyes shining in the moonlight. they’re wide and earnest, swimming with stars. “and it wouldn’t be fair not to. not after what you told me. i guess i wanted you to know that… you aren’t alone.”

____

donghyuck doesn’t really know what to say. he’s never been the best at comforting verbally. but yukhei doesn’t break the silence, sidling in closer so their shoulders brush. he splays donghyuck’s palm flat on the dusty railing, covering it completely with his hand and sliding their fingers together.

____

the moon is waning but it’s bright, so bright that it’s sparkling. the city and its smoggy air is miles away, so the stars stand out starkly from the inky black sky. “as a wise young man once said, it’s okay to not be good,” donghyuck tells him, to a small chuckle in response. “you might not be able to change it, so the least you can do is let yourself be upset.”

____

yukhei ducks his head. “i did let myself be upset, a few months back,” he admits. “didn’t make me feel much better.”

____

“then what did?”

____

“nothing,” he replies simply. “until you.”

____

donghyuck’s thankful it’s dark, because he’s certain he just flushed a deeper red than the color of his hair last summer. “why me?” he asks, because it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

____

yukhei shrugs. “you took my mind off of things, i guess. it’s nice having you around. and i realized that jeno was never going to be the person for me, just as i was never going to be the person for him.” those words resonate with a harsh pang in donghyuck’s chest, because he’s slowly come to the same conclusion about mark. they’re meant to be as they always have been, and that’s okay. maybe the person for both of them is right here, equally broken but overcoming hardships alongside one another.

____

“y’know, i went on this little trip to learn to let loose; to live,” yukhei continues. donghyuck turns to find them closer than before, noses bumping as he breathes, “i think i’ve found a reason to.”

____

yukhei’s lips don’t align perfectly with his, or anything. in fact, they’re a little too big for donghyuck’s mouth, but they’re pliant and move against donghyuck’s with expertise. donghyuck feels himself melting and clutches tighter to the sides of yukhei’s jacket. his hands are shaking. so is his entire body.

____

he has no idea what he’s doing—the only sort-of kiss he’s ever had was that half-assed peck he’d sprung on mark last august—but yukhei takes the lead for him, cupping donghyuck’s jaw and tilting his head so their lips slot together properly and _wowwowwow_ , now it’s so much better. donghyuck slides a bold hand up to the back of yukhei’s neck and angles his head downward a little more, gripping at the silky soft strands of hair at his nape. yukhei’s lips taste like butterscotch— the candies he must have been eating earlier. donghyuck wants that taste embedded on his tongue.

____

he doesn’t realize how carried away they’ve gotten until yukhei is licking at the seam of his lips, effectively opening up donghyuck’s mouth. his body is flush against yukhei’s own, and without it there to support him, he’s sure he’d be nothing but a pile of mush on the floor.

____

his lungs are tight, and he pulls back after one last peck to inhale sharply. “you—” donghyuck sucks in another shuddery breath—“you should talk things out with jeno first. tell him the truth. explain.”

____

yukhei’s eyes are dark and his chest is heaving but there’s a blissed-out look on his face. his cheeks look warm. donghyuck has to keep his fists clenched before he does something stupid like touch yukhei’s flushed skin. he lowers his head. “can it wait?” he groans into donghyuck’s neck, pressing a few kisses to the sweaty skin there.

____

donghyuck’s heart leaps into his throat. “it’ll weigh on your conscience if you don’t,” he reminds him quietly. he smooths yukhei’s damp bangs back from his forehead. “i’ll wait out here for you.”

____

“fine,” yukhei huffs, but there’s genuine apprehension behind the front. donghyuck leans in and kisses him again, a quick peck that has the elder drawing in for more.

____

yukhei presses up to him so they’re nose to nose, going cross-eyed to look at each other. “ _go,_ ” donghyuck laughs, gently pushing him away.

____

the second he’s alone, he buries his face into his hands and lets out a giddy sigh. he can’t help it; his heart has been doing the jitterbug for a good 5 minutes now, and it might burst out of his chest if he doesn’t let out the butterflies bubbling up inside of him.

____

it feels like it’s been a long time coming, but it only took them a week to get here. donghyuck’s perception of time has been so warped that this trip has seemed like it went on for months. in such a short amount of time they’ve been through so many ups and downs, only to finally reach this point, and it seems like a fitting end to this journey.

____

unfortunately, this is nowhere near the end. reality comes crashing back in the second he let it fly out. this is their last night together. after this, donghyuck will go back to work, and yukhei will go back to school, and the years will fly by before they know it and this whole thing will be behind them. they’re young, and drunk on infatuation.

____

_no,_ donghyuck tells himself firmly, leaning back against the balcony and digging his palms firmly into the metal. _you’re not going to run from this._

____

he can’t even imagine it. people like yukhei are rare, one of a kind, and donghyuck would be a goddamn fool to let him slip through his fingers. fate planted this opportunity right in his lap, and if he doesn’t take it, then what’s the point?

____

he can see yukhei out here just as well as he could when he was the one behind the wall. the large expanse of his back is a shadow against the curtain, as he sits on the bed, cell phone held up to his mouth. his free hand moves expressively as he speaks, far more wordy and expressive than donghyuck could ever be over the phone (and when the person he’s speaking to might want to wring his neck).

____

he’s still apprehensive to see johnny tomorrow. he just knows that he and taeyong put aside their wedding planning to worry about him, even though their wedding planning was the catalyst for donghyuck leaving in the first place. it’s been eating at him for days, now. but he tries to put it out of his mind for now; he will apologize, to the best of his ability without breaking down into pathetic tears like he probably will at the sight of taeyong’s infamous crying eyes. and things will be fine. they have to be, or else donghyuck wouldn’t be able to say he has the best support system anyone could ever ask for.

____

as for mark; donghyuck wants to be more open with him from now on. less passive. not silently getting over arguments without talking honestly about why they were upset with each other in the first place. he wants things to be the way they were when they were young, with infinite possibilities ahead of them. the fame has weathered them, distanced themselves from each other, and increased the pressure to be the “perfect” duo in front of the cameras for years. and donghyuck plans to apologize to him, too. to make things right again.

____

the sound of the door creaking open breaks donghyuck’s musings, but not the promise he makes to himself to set things right. “jeno didn’t pick up either,” yukhei sighs, but he still looks—happy. “i left a long voicemail. told him i’ll see him tomorrow and we’ll talk then.”

____

donghyuck grins, and draws yukhei closer to him by the hand, so that they’re nearly chest to chest. “i’m proud of you,” he says, and he means it, in relation to so much more than just yukhei summoning the courage to make that call.

____

their lips touch again, soft and smooth, and against his mouth yukhei breathes, “you know....” his lips slide against the corner of donghyuck’s lips and make their way up to his ear, nibbling at the soft flesh of his lobe. it elicits a shiver that starts at the base of donghyuck’s spine and creeps up to the top of his head. his body moves involuntarily along with the feeling, and yukhei chuckles, a deep reverberation that donghyuck can feel in his bones. “....there’s a pool here.”

____

“the hell are we waiting for, then?”

____

they scramble to the courtyard out back, hands linked. yukhei’s shirt ends up discarded on the tile lining the water, along with donghyuck’s jeans as they do cannonballs into the freezing water.

____

they’re still half-dressed and it’s uncomfortable, but donghyuck dunks himself underneath the water to get used to the chill, boxers ballooning from the air pressure. yukhei’s are in a similar situation, and they snicker at each other while trying to smooth their pants down. 

____

donghyuck floats on his back, eyes squinting up at the pearlescent moon above them. it reflects in the water and bounces off the garish pink of the motel lights. yukhei breastrokes to the deep end and back, muscular arms flexing as he swims like a fucking olympian. “hey,” he grins as he approaches donghyuck in the shallow end, sounding ridiculously cocky, and donghyuck tries not to look past his face, he does, but it doesn’t really work and he ends up checking yukhei out anyways.

____

(he looks good. as expected.)

____

yukhei notices and his cheeks crease. he runs a hand through his sopping wet hair and stands to his full height. “you should’ve taken this off,” he tells donghyuck, taking a piece of the soaked fabric of his shirt between his fingers and pulling it up so it doesn’t stick to his skin.

____

donghyuck keeps his arms wrapped protectively around his middle, expression impassive. guarded. he’s never revealed this much skin to anyone, not even johnny or taeyong. “why, so you can _ogle_ me?” he drawls.

____

the glint in yukhei’s eyes is utterly devious. “that, and for better access,” he says, and before donghyuck can ask what he means, there’s a pair of freezing cold lips on his collarbone.

____

yukhei certainly wastes no time. he shucks up the hem of donghyuck’s shirt, mouth getting hotter, fingers wrapping around the bare skin of his waist, and donghyuck feels like indulging him.

____

he tugs the shirt from his body with a bit of difficulty, since it’s drenched and heavy, but with yukhei’s help it lands somewhere on the ground behind them with a wet _slap._ over here, the water comes up to his navel, and donghyuck sinks down so it comes up to his shoulders, suddenly regretting exposing so much of himself—and in the presence of a greek god, no less.

____

“it’s fine,” yukhei murmurs, moving with him and taking donghyuck’s face in one hand, wet fingers cooling against his warm cheek. he looks even taller from this angle, but he still doesn’t look intimidating. never really has.

____

donghyuck shakes his head as if to clear it. “sorry, i’m being stupid,” he mutters.

____

“yeah, you kinda are,” yukhei grins. “because you’re beautiful.”

____

“that was gross,” donghyuck laughs, faltering because yukhei is crowding in closer, closer until there’s barely any space between them. “what, did you eat grease for break—”

____

he never gets to finish, because yukhei takes that as his cue to back him up against the tiled wall and kiss him senseless. he nips at donghyuck’s lower lip, and now he tastes a little like chlorine and salt but donghyuck welcomes the flavor and opens his mouth to taste more of it.

____

definitely not grease.

____

he grips the back of yukhei’s neck and lifts his legs to wrap them around the taller boy’s waist, an easy maneuver to make underwater. yukhei takes it in stride, large hands supporting the underside of donghyuck’s thighs.

____

there’s an unparalleled enthusiasm yukhei brings to everything he does, and that includes his kissing. he gets sloppy and wanton, hot and heavy, and it’s everything donghyuck needs but at the same time it’s overwhelming, suffocating, like scorching hot coals against his skin as yukhei’s lips move downward. yukhei kisses donghyuck like kissing donghyuck is his last act on earth, like donghyuck is the only thing that matters.

____

and donghyuck can’t complain about that.

____

“woah there, champ,” he has to say eventually, feeling the overheated skin of yukhei’s cheek underneath his pruned and frigid fingers. he’s panting, tongue darting out to lick the drops of chlorine and sweat from his upper lip. “take it easy.

____

yukhei’s chest is heaving, sheepish smile in place. “sorry,” he breathes. “got carried away.”

____

donghyuck laughs, forehead against yukhei’s. “yeah,” he says. their lips brush together, hot breaths melding into one as he speaks. “i can tell.”

____

“i couldn’t help but brag on the phone,” yukhei murmurs. he nips at donghyuck’s jaw, leaving behind pink marks that will fade within minutes. “that i get to make out with _the_ lee haechan.”

____

despite his burning ears, donghyuck scoffs. “you call _any_ of this a makeout? we’re not even kissing right now.”

____

yukhei pulls away, and donghyuck whines at the loss of contact. “we’re just taking a breather; because of you, may i add,” yukhei retorts. he raises a brow. “was that a challenge?”

____

donghyuck responds to that by slotting their lips together once more.

____

yukhei kisses him back enthusiastically. donghyuck lets himself melt, let go. it may be their last night together, but it’s the night for them to lose themselves, the night to try and forget about tomorrow.

____

but tomorrow always comes sooner than you want it to.

__  
_ _

__

____

.

____

__  
_   
_

__  
_ _

the sun is a unforgiving bitch and yukhei would like to pleasantly tell it to fuck off.

____

its light streams through curtains and directly onto his face. it kind of burns and he wants to roll over, but his body is being pinned down by a much smaller, much more snuggly one.

____

donghyuck prefers to curl into himself when he sleeps, unlike yukhei, who starfishes obnoxiously, and thus these vastly different positions have melded into a weird combo: donghyuck in the fetal position, his back to yukhei but tucked against his chest, and yukhei spread out, one arm draped over donghyuck’s waist so they’re kind of spooning, one leg out of the covers (that donghyuck is totally hogging, by the way) and the other somehow slotted between donghyuck’s.

____

yukhei’s lost all feeling in his left arm, but it’s totally worth it.

____

it may be an unconventional sleeping position, but it’s oddly comfortable. he has to admit, though: it’s getting a bit annoying to have to keep his eyes scrunched shut to protect his retinas, even though he can still see the light of the rising sun beneath them.

____

thankfully, the sun in his arms is rising too.

____

“mmm, g’morning,” donghyuck hums, twisting his neck and sleepily pursing his lips into a pout. yukhei is quite aware that neither of them brushed their teeth before quite literally collapsing into bed, but he is a very weak man, so he leans over to give him a small peck.

____

donghyuck huffs and cracks open an eyelid. “come on, kiss me.”

____

“just did.”

____

donghyuck opens both eyes, then, pout intensifying, and yukhei’s weakness levels increase by an embarrassingly high margin.

____

their lips meet again, less chaste and more languid this time, like they have all the time in the world (god, yukhei wishes they did). donghyuck turns so he’s in yukhei’s arms, his clothed chest against yukhei’s bare one. his fingers lightly trace the muscle along yukhei’s left arm and moves his hand so he’s gripping donghyuck’s waist.

____

yukhei hasn’t felt this way in a while, giddy and excited and anxious all at once. it’s a wonderful feeling. 10/10 would recommend. though it’ll be hard to find someone that gets as you hot and bothered as donghyuck does, or who knows how to move their tongue _just right_ against your own.

____

it’ll also be hard to find someone who will work you up into such a state of desperation—only to leave you hanging.

____

“i’m going to shower,” donghyuck simpers, drawing away. he pats yukhei’s cheek in a condescending manner. “i need to wash your germs off of me.”

____

yukhei halfheartedly swats at donghyuck’s rear end as he saunters off to the bathroom, backpack in hand. he turns his cheek and grins like a fool into his pillow.

____

the bedsheets are rumpled and half spilling over the bed, no doubt thanks to donghyuck and his unconscious blanket-hogging. yukhei’s suitcase is open, which is not how he had left it, and belatedly he realizes that donghyuck wore his shirt to bed.

____

he has to take another minute.

____

it’s going to be a weird day, to say the least. yukhei doesn’t really know how to feel. but donghyuck’s voice carries through the bathroom door and into the room, singing a sweet tune yukhei can’t quite make out over the sound of rushing water, but it makes him smile to himself as he finishes packing up.

____

he’s buttoning up the last few buttons on a white button-up to go with his cargo shorts when donghyuck comes out. he has to do a double take to reaffirm that that is, indeed, seeing what’s in front of him right now. donghyuck in jeans torn up to rags, and wearing the same cobalt _mermament_ t-shirt, the one he’d slept in—except it’s now been sloppily cut around the middle so that a good amount of donghyuck’s lean, tanned midriff is showing.

____

“you said i’d look good in a crop top,” he shrugs, trying to look nonchalant when he’s clearly preening from the attention (with his mouth this wide open, yukhei’s bound to catch some flies). “and there were scissors in the bathroom, so.”

____

“you ruined my shirt,” yukhei says dumbly. “but it looks hot. i’m conflicted.”

____

____

yukhei strides over and lets his lips say what his brain can’t, which effectively shuts donghyuck up.

____

they finally pile into the car after another 15 minutes of getting carried away (some of yukhei’s buttons have been unbuttoned, and the shoulder of donghyuck’s diy oversized crop top keeps sliding down and showing off the array of discoloration at the junction of his neck and shoulder). 

____

the drive is quiet, drifting just between comfortable and uncomfortable. donghyuck stays awake, but he’s jumpy, a little too anxious. yukhei grips his knee for reassurance and lets it stay there, trailing up the thigh a bit to knead the exposed skin in soothing circles.

____

eventually, the familiar sight of hangang park comes into view over the horizon. “wanna stop by han river?” he asks, on a whim. donghyuck nods furiously, looking relieved. “one last stop.” the words hang between them, melancholy in the sweetness of the air.

____

he changes course, getting over into the furthest lane to find a nearby parking lot or somewhere else to stop. donghyuck puts on his mask and sunglasses once more as they merge into heavier traffic, and yukhei does the same. for a second, he worries that they’re being too obvious, that they’re asking for _more_ attention, before he remembers how unused he is to everyone around him wearing facemasks now that he’s left america. “you know, i’ve never been out here,” he says thoughtfully, as he pulls into a seedy back alley close by. “never had time to with school and studying constantly.”

____

“and i never had time with being shunted from schedule to schedule all this time,” donghyuck says, bitter. he turns his head to yukhei as the car sputters to a halt, the final one they’ll have together—for the time being, at least. his eyes crinkle up at the corners, mouth unseen, but the upper half of his face contains such a strong expression of sadness.

____

“then we’ll both have a memorable first visit,” yukhei suggests, and watches that dim light in donghyuck’s eyes shine a little brighter. that makes it all worth it, he thinks. to eventually part ways, go back to their polar opposite lives, but know that they’ll always make each other smile no matter what.

____

hangang park isn’t crowded at this time of mid-morning, but yukhei has a feeling neither of them would really care either way as they thread their hands together and begin walking through the winding concrete path. donghyuck’s feet drag against the ground, kicking at stray pebbles like he’s trying to prolong this for as long as he can.

____

and yukhei indulges him, lets the large strides his long legs often provide become more subdued and casual. he points out pretty flowers or cool trees that they pass, trying to fluster him with “facts” disguised as compliments ( _“you know why those flowers are so pink? because they got jealous after seeing your cheeks”; “the beautiful shade of brown of that tree bark is so rare, the only other place you can find it is in your eyes”). eventually, they come upon a sloping grassy knoll, one that donghyuck insists will be perfect for lying down on ( _“rock solid, yet comfortable to snuggle into, like your abs,”_ he had said with a lecherous grin, and yukhei had dragged him down by the hand so that donghyuck fell into his lap, responding by kissing him senseless)._

_____ _

“i don’t want this to be over,” donghyuck admits. they’re side by side, laying on their backs under the sun. the area they are lying in is surrounded by trees, giving them enough shade as well as privacy, but the sun filters through the trees the way it did through the curtains this morning and it makes yukhei want to stop, wants to keep time from slipping through his fingers too fast.

_____ _

donghyuck’s mask is crumpled up in his hand, and yukhei’s is somewhere on the grass beside him. yukhei steals glances at him every now again, and he catches donghyuck staring back and he just _knows_ that donghyuck is trying to commit every detail of his face to memory, too.

_____ _

“it doesn’t have to be,” yukhei tells him, eventually. he grips his hand a little tighter, wanting nothing more than to scoop donghyuck up into his arms and hold him to his chest forever. “it doesn’t.”

_____ _

donghyuck wrinkles his nose. “no offense, but you’re you and i’m me. how could this work out?”

_____ _

“first of all, you can’t say ’no offense’ and expect me to not get offended, because i am incredibly offended,” yukhei commences, and donghyuck giggles and holds on a little tighter, too. “and second of all, we can make it work, if you want to. we’ll both be in the same place for a while, so it isn’t out of the question for us to hang out.”

_____ _

“i want to,” donghyuck insists. yukhei glances over and notes that there’s still something unsure about him, in the way he bites down on his lip and plays absentmindedly with yukhei’s fingers. “but what happens when you go to university?” he asks eventually. “for months?”

_____ _

“what happens when _you_ go on a world tour, or wherever you busy famous people have to go?” yukhei shoots back. he bats away the hand donghyuck tries to pinch his side with—the action is a reflex by now. “the internet exists for a reason, sunshine. we can talk there. every day. i’m willing to put the work in if you are.”

_____ _

“of course i’m willing,” donghyuck scoffs, as if yukhei suggesting otherwise is out of the question. “but it’ll be hard.”

_____ _

he’s meek, staring up at yukhei with baleful eyes. “of course it will,” yukhei tells him. he reaches out to brush back donghyuck’s bangs, watching his eyelids flutter shut in response to the touch. “it wouldn’t be worth it if it wasn’t.”

_____ _

donghyuck sniffs daintily. it’s clear that he’s trying to hide his sadness. “why do _you_ have to be the composed one,” he grouses under his breath.

_____ _

“someone’s gotta do it, and it’s obviously not gonna be you,” yukhei teases. “ 

_____ _

“johnny-hyung’s apartment is only a ways away,” he pipes up. “i could walk from here. people might see you if you drive me.”

_____ _

“people already have seen me,” yukhei jokes, but he knows what donghyuck’s getting at. that way, there will be slightly less questions. a lesser chance of being followed and exposed. neither of them want to part, but it has to happen eventually 

_____ _

they stand up together, brushing the grass from their clothes. donghyuck takes yukhei’s hand and holds it for a long moment, then presses something into his palm. “one more,” yukhei says breathlessly, leaning in again to firmly press their lips together. donghyuck kisses back, gripping the sleeve of yukhei’s shirt to ground himself. the wind whips through their hair. “for the road.”

_____ _

he’s teary-eyed when they pull away, and yukhei moves forward to wipe them, but he shakes his head. “let me have the last dramatic moment,” he whines, and yukhei lets out a bark of laughter as he pulls donghyuck into his chest.

_____ _

“i’m gonna miss you, sunshine,” he whispers into the silky strands of donghyuck’s hair, pressing a small kiss there. donghyuck draws back, and his eyes are still glossy but there’s a message conveyed in them: _i will, too._

_____ _

the world doesn’t end when donghyuck walks away. in fact, it begins. another breeze picks up and ruffles yukhei’s hair, disturbing a bush of fuschia flowers nearby and sweeping their petals into the air, a gorgeous splash of pink against a bright blue backdrop. the sound of birds chirping reaches his ears, their tune sounding sweeter somehow when donghyuck turns around at the crest of a hill to wave. yukhei waves back, and almost drops the folded piece of paper donghyuck had given him. he snatches it out of the air, unfolding it with shaky hands, and nearly cackles out loud just looking at it.

_____ _

written there is donghyuck’s number, and below that: an autograph.

_____ _

yukhei walks in the opposite direction to his car with nothing but levity in every step. he rolls the windows down, listening to the thrum of the engine as he gets the car in gear. he glances over at the empty spot beside him and smiles, a hint of sadness there.

_____ _

the drive home is silent. it’s void of pointless bickering or the quiet humming yukhei would hear sometimes when donghyuck was in his own little world, headphones on and forehead against the window. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss it already.

_____ _

as he rounds the corner to his street, he can see jeno, waiting in the driveway.

_____ _

he waits for his pulse to spike. for his hands to get clammy. for his breathing to become erratic. for the sweat to bead in his hairline. for his cheeks to turn a blotchy red.

_____ _

none of that happens.

_____ _

his stomach churns a little, because he’s nervous as all hell, but otherwise he feels at peace around jeno for the first time in forever, and clearly, jeno feels that way too.

_____ _

case and point: “you’re a lucky bastard and i hate you,” is the first thing he says when yukhei steps out, and he throws himself into yukhei’s open arms.

_____ _

“i know, i’m just the worst,” yukhei deadpans. jeno looks up at him, and this time there isn’t any restraint in his smile, no doubt hidden in his eyes as yukhei grins back.

_____ _

they’re finally on the same page.

_____ _

“you have so much to spill,” jeno says as he pulls away. “chenle and jisung are on the way so i’m not gonna ask too much, but, um… was it fun?”

_____ _

yukhei can’t help but laugh. jeno looks so eager, eyes shining and lips sealed with thousands of haechan-related questions behind them. there’s so much he could say but he doesn’t know how much he should.

_____ _

he thinks of the hand twined with his on the center console, the brush of lips against his knuckles and the hidden glances. he thinks of gas stations and milkshakes, jodies of pouring rain and two hunched figures on a motel porch, of a silent understanding and closeness he’s never felt before. he thinks how one seemingly insignificant choice turned out to be The Most Important Life Choice he’s ever made.

_____ _

“yeah,” he says. “i had a great time.”

___  
___

___🛣_ _ _

_____ _

  


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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come scream at me abt hyuckhei dancing to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NrOw_gNXbpw)
> 
> in all seriousness though, thank you all so much for reading this story. it's taken me far too long to finally finish it and get it out, but i'm so glad i did. much love <33333
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3VA6lfDc04NRWmVt3muQgw?si=fQkV74EiTxeP047hPk-ruA)

**Author's Note:**

> comments always appreciated!! love you all <333333
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/orangypop) || [cc](https://curiouscat.me/orangypop)


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